


Wayward Hearts

by bettertoflee, TheWorldIsOurCliche



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-05-13 15:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 43,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14751362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettertoflee/pseuds/bettertoflee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWorldIsOurCliche/pseuds/TheWorldIsOurCliche
Summary: It’s been eight years since Noora was last in London. Now an admired journalist at ELLE, she’s been tasked with an interview that could possibly change her life - one way or another. What she knows is that she’ll be interviewing the divine and world famous designer Sophia Brooks. What she doesn’t know is that Sophia’s fiance is none other than the very person Noora dreaded running into the most. Will Noora be able to navigate this nostalgic encounter before long lost feelings drag them both into a chaos that far surpases all their prior quandaries? Or, will these two wayward hearts find their way back to one another?





	1. Noora

CHAPTER 1: NOORA

She pushed the door shut after walking in and immediately took off her heels. Wearing them was exhausting, but for the few hours she had at the office, she would do it without complaining. It looked good and as a journalist for ELLE magazine, she couldn’t just show up in her favourite, slightly shabby ankle boots. Luckily, the comfort of her own home and office had other laws. Fuzzy socks, comfortable clothes and messy hair was the primary uniform.

Mid-step, she gently rubbed one bare foot against the other, trying to soothe the soreness caused by her black suede stilettos. After making a short pitstop in her room in order to put away her coat and scarf, she continued down the hall to her favourite room. A small, tired smile immediately spread on her face. Getting herself a home office was definitely one of the best investments she’d ever made. Her promotion at ELLE had definitely been the determining factor, as she’d considered just settling for her already existing office at the ELLE-bureau in central Oslo. Now that she had it, there was no way she could ever live without it. She gently put down her shoulder bag, containing her laptop amongst all kinds of work supplies, before pulling out the office chair. Before skipping out of the office, her boss had called out her name and told her to check her email when she got back home. Her next profile and interview-task would be in her inbox within the next few minutes. Noora sat down in front of her desk, turned on the little lamp and pulled her laptop out of her bag.

“Let’s have a look,” she mumbled to herself, as she opened the laptop on the desk and turned it on. Quickly discovering that she was forced to install a new update, she went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of hot cocoa while she waited. Her arm reached into one of the overhead cupboards to grab the pack of cocoa. As soon as her eyes landed on it, she was taken back in time. It happened every time.

_“Baking cocoa?”_

_“Yeah, I don't know why I got it. The lady at the check out got it for me so that was great.”  
His eyes had wandered all over the white and yellow packaging, searching for answers. She remembered it so clearly that it gave her chills. Even though she’d gotten over him, it sometimes felt like he was right there in the room with her and it scared her._

_“It says something about dark cocoa drink here.”_

_He’d started reading out loud, “Extra dark and powerful cocoa.” Without moving his head the slightest bit, his eyes had deviated from the package in his hands to her face. It was almost like he knew that his deep, brown eyes reminded her of the delicious, sugary drink. A blush had crept to her cheeks, lowkey exposing her incipient feelings for him._

_“Five tablespoons of Freia baking cocoa. Four to five tablespoons of sugar.”_

All of this ran through her mind in vivid, colourful pictures as she followed the exact same directions and ingredients as back then. Baking cocoa turned out to make the best hot cocoa she’d ever had. When she got back to her work desk, the laptop was finally done updating, displaying the picture of her and her four best friends, which she had set as her desktop picture a long time ago. It would always make her smile. Even on the worst days.

After taking a sip of her warm beverage and carefully putting it down, she clicked on the mail icon. Quickly learning that keeping up with her emails was essential to surviving in the world of ELLE, she only had a couple of unread cases waiting for her. Her eyes were quickly drawn to the most recent example: FEBRUARY 2024 ISSUE - SOPHIA BROOKS ARTICLE/INTERVIEW. She clicked on it, remembering that she had heard the name before but had never looked into it. Interesting.  
The mail wasn’t too long, but contained quite a lot of important information and details. Having everything within her reach, Noora grabbed a notepad and scribbled down the key-info, before reading through it for safety purposes. Wednesday evening, she’d travel to London to interview new and sensational designer Sophia Brooks.

London. Just the mention of this special city could make her stomach twist and turn with nostalgia. She remembered moving there with William, no hesitation, just pure trust. For once she’d trusted her heart instead of her head, even though it was intimidating as hell. Having just turned 17, it was indeed scary even though she’d lived abroad before. New apartment, new faces, new language. Everything was new, but at the same time everything was okay because at least he was there with her. It seemed scarier than Madrid, but also easier. Thanks to him. She reached for the mug as to get out of her head, but the cocoa only made it worse. It tasted like him. Sweet, slightly bitter, addicting.

Her eyes switched back to the screen to continue her reading as she put down the mug and also the bittersweet memories.

It was given away in the mail that Sophia had recently gotten engaged and that her brand was on a profitable high. Noora herself was asked to implicate a personal profile of the woman, but keep the focus on her brand, strategy and professional future plans. On a new page, Noora scribbled down a few key words that would help her research for the interview she had to prepare. Her eyes switched to the clock in the right corner of her screen. It read 6 PM. So did her rumbling stomach. The research would have to be a post dinner-matter.

After quickly throwing together a random pasta-dish, Noora allowed herself to retreat from her workspace. It was Monday after all. After being smart, sophisticated and professional all day, there was nothing like kicking up her feet and letting the brainlessness of Paradise Hotel momentarily decompose her brain. It was fun, relaxing and it reminded her of the good times in the Kollektiv with Linn and Eskild, where the three of them would get together and judge the contestants as they drank FUN-soda and ate candy. Now it was seven years later, everyone had moved on to do their own thing and she was alone on the couch with her pasta and vegetables. It sounded lonely, but in reality it really wasn’t. Though she was a busy woman, Noora always made sure to prioritise her friendships and created time in her schedule to see everyone. Eskild, Sana or Eva would always be the first ones to receive a call whenever she really needed to talk. In-between meetings, she loved to meet up for coffee with Vilde or Chris. For bigger get-togethers, she was always willing to host and cook for everyone.

In general: life was good.

This was even considering the fact that she’d had a major setback eight years ago. After leaving London back then, fleeing, she’d never gone back. Not to the city, nor the person she left there. It was the hardest thing she’d ever experienced, but she managed to work through it and graduated from high school with good grades. After this she went directly to university, where she got her bachelor’s degree in rhetoric. Randomly stumbling upon it online, Eskild had sent Noora a job advertisement from ELLE. Being the brilliant, young woman that she was, she’d scored the amazing opportunity of working for them as an intern. It had been a huge deal to Noora, taking up a lot of her time, which had helped her grow a lot as a person and also distracting her from the pain she’d gone through in high school and even university. The scars were deep, but eventually they’d healed. It didn’t mean that the memories were gone, but everything had seemed to fall into place. Especially when she’d been offered a permanent job as a journalist at ELLE. From there on, she’d grown and worked her way to a respected, highly-praised journalist. Her job loved her and she loved her job. This way she got to do what she’d always loved the most: writing and travelling.

This time was the first time she’d ever been asked to go to London though. Miraculously. London was a booming and popular city, and it did surprise Noora herself that she’d never been asked to do an assignment there before. But maybe that was life looking out for her. Maybe going to London earlier would’ve been a bad idea and something that could’ve thrown her off her tracks. Now that the opportunity was here, she did feel confident though. London held bittersweet memories, yes, but it was also a super cultural, thrilling and entertaining city.

Another bite of pasta slid down her throat as she turned off the TV and got off the couch. More determined than ever, she walked back to her office, feeling very convinced: London was going to be an amazing opportunity and she was going to nail it. The world was her playground and it was a waste of time to not embrace it.

London, she was on her way.


	2. William

CHAPTER 2 - William

William looked into the mirror and adjusted the blue paisley tie around his neck.

He hated it. He hated the pattern, he hated how wide it was, and most of all, he hated that he couldn’t get it situated right under his collar.

A moment later, he undid the fabric and re-knotted it, pulling it tighter then loosening it again. For some reason, it still didn’t feel right, but he was out of time. The clock on the nightstand behind him indicated that it was already a quarter past seven and he’d be late for work if he took any longer. He’d been knotting ties for years and there was no reason he should have such a hard time with it all of a sudden, but no matter how many times he angrily mumbled that to his reflection, he still wasn’t happy with the result.

The simple fact was: he hadn’t gotten any sleep over the past three nights and his hands just wouldn’t do what he wanted them to. 

Just thinking about it forced his eyes to refocus, moving away from his shaky, white-knuckled fingers to look at his reflection. The bags under his eyes didn’t do anything to disguise the fact that he was lacking sleep. The bed behind him, perfectly made on one side, unkempt and worn on the other only added to the admission that he had spent the previous night awake in his office. Again.

William pushed the thought to the back of his head and pulled himself away from the mirror, making his way out of the room, ducking in said office to grab his briefcase on the way down the hall.

When he entered the kitchen, in all its white porcelain glory, he swept over the counter, picking up his keys and stashing them in his coat pocket, then took an apple and wedged it between his teeth before reaching up to a cabinet to pull down a thermos.

“Don’t take all the coffee.”

He turned and tried to acknowledge Sophia’s presence around the apple. When he couldn’t form any kind of greeting, he reached up and removed the apple, taking a bite where his teeth had been dug into it and then talked around the mouthful.

“Since when do you drink coffee?” It came out garbled and unclear.

She barely looked up from her laptop long enough to acknowledge him. “Since I ran out of tea.”

She was already put together in a slim fitting dress and heels that would probably make her too tall when she stood. Even though she wouldn’t be leaving for at least another hour and a half, she was made for the day. Sitting rim-rod straight, not a hair was out of place. For some reason this struck a nerve inside him. William eyed her briefly before pouring his coffee.

“Won’t you kiss me good morning?” she asked.

The way the words rolled off her tongue made him want to stay planted safely on the other side of the room, but he forced his feet to move. The reluctance he’d been feeling toward her as of late was irrational and inexplicable. In some ways. If he searched deeper, he thought he knew where it was rooted. But searching meant admitting and admitting meant he’d have to do something about it and doing something about it would take more effort than he was interested in giving.

As he stooped down to let his lips graze gently against her, she put her hand across his cheek and the diamond rock sitting atop her fourth finger caught the sunlight, sending a smattering of iridescent geometric shapes to dance along the ceiling. 

Without warning, the tie he’d almost forgotten about felt like it was two times tighter. As he pulled away, he tugged at it slightly, trying to give himself room to breathe.

“Busy day?” she asked. Her sweet tone softened his heart and he was thankful to feel that familiar fondness he’d been missing creep up. “You look dashing in that shirt. I’m so glad you let me buy it for you.”

It was another reminder of how uncalled for his attitude had been lately. On one hand, he couldn’t help how he felt and he also couldn’t help that he was getting cold feet, but on the other hand, Sophia hadn’t done anything to deserve it. As he thought about whether or not his day was actually busy, or if he was just giving off that impression because his mind was so preoccupied, he let himself consider how ridiculous it was to have cold feet anyway. He was engaged, not dying...weren’t weddings supposed to be happier than funerals?

After all—Sophia was beautiful. She was successful. She was arguably everything his father had ever wanted for him, an obvious fact considering he’d been the one to introduce them.

Maybe that was where some of the resentment had started. But it shouldn’t still be a problem. They’d been together for years. Almost five, actually, which is what had led to the engagement in the first place. 

If his father’s approval wasn’t the problem, maybe the fact that he’d felt forced into proposing was… He hadn’t wanted to get engaged yet. He wasn’t even thirty yet. At twenty-seven, he still had three years left to be irresponsible. Three years before he’d officially be an adult with responsibility. Three years to not feel like he had to be home by 10PM. Three years to visit Ireland with Chris like they’d always planned and drink their way from one side of the country to the other. He could go on and on, because every night he’d spent not sleeping, he had instead spent making lists arguing why he shouldn’t be settling down before he was thirty.

Each reason sounded more and more like an excuse. Nothing more than a means to get him out of a pretty notably binding legal commitment.

But it was really too late to be making lists. After three years of badgering, Sophia had worn him down.

He’d proposed on their last anniversary, and now, almost six months later, they were moving closer and closer to their wedding date and he could feel all the things he had yet to do relentlessly eating away at him. That was all.

William knew it was all in his head. It was just… ever since he’d asked her to marry him everything seemed different.

Any time he closed his eyes, he found himself dreaming of a blonde who was very much not Sophia.

It might have been the London tap water, finally doing something to his gut the way he’d been warned it might, or perhaps it was more to do with his impending nuptials…the idea of spending forever with one person… Either way, in just half a year’s time, he’d gone from happy with a full night’s sleep to miserable, cranky, and tired.

He didn’t want to leave her innocent question unanswered for much longer, lest she ask what he was thinking about, so he opened his mouth and gave a short “yes” before stepping back and readjusting the briefcase in his hand.

At the same time William took note of the way the leather had finally worn perfectly beneath his fingers, Sophia eyed it and gave him a confused, rather short-tempered look. It had taken years for the leather to get this soft and he was finally happy with the way his paperwork fit inside. When they’d been shopping the other day, and she’d found a new hard-shell briefcase that she insisted on buying for him, he had known there was a problem. 

“I thought you were going to switch to the new bag…” She let the leading question-turned-statement drift into the space between them as she waited for his response. “You can’t think that old, scuffed thing is still suitable to carry as someone practicing legitimate law, can you?”

His face didn’t give, and she tried another tactic, laying on a sweeter, more syrupy tone as an attempt to quell the insult she’d just delivered.

“Let your famous designer fiancée doll you up—with looks as good as yours, and taste as good as mine, everyone will want you to save them from debt and financial ruin.”

The emphasis she put on the word famous was in good fun and for the most part, it did the job, lightening his mood and making him forget for a moment that what she was actually doing was marking her territory.

“I just haven’t taken the time,” he said, even though it wasn’t the truth. He’d had about nine hours the night before which would have been perfect for just the task. Of course, that was beside the point. He had no intention of using the one she’d bought him. Noora had given him the one in his hand when he’d first gotten accepted into law school. There was real sentiment behind it. And besides that, he didn’t like the one she’d bought.

He had a feeling Noora was the main reason she wanted him to get rid of it but didn’t think the admission of not caring for the alternative, the one she had picked out, would be any better.

“I’ll do it when I get home,” he added at the last second. He still didn’t know if he meant it, but he thought he should at least give it a thought. Was it right to hold onto something from an old girlfriend when you were supposed to be marrying someone else? Did it matter if it was just a briefcase?

Even if the answer was no, he thought it probably mattered if said ex-girlfriend was creeping into your subconscious thoughts late at night…or any time you let your mind drift for longer than a few minutes at a time. 

Sophia gave him a forgiving look and pulled him to her for one last kiss before returning to her work and sending him off. 

As William closed the door to their building behind him, he let himself take a deep breath of the morning air, the soft fogginess filling his lungs and giving him what felt like a fresh start. It would only last as long as the walk to his office, but at least he was getting out of the apartment today. With Sophia having her studio built into their home, and his home office being right down the hall, getting any work done there sometimes proved hard.

It wasn’t that he was intimidated by her success. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Her passion and drive when it came to designing clothes is what had first caught his attention. She worked unlike anyone he’d ever met before—throwing her whole self into everything she did, wasting no time. She always knew exactly what she wanted, and she wasn’t afraid to go after it. They were praiseworthy qualities.

She had an interview scheduled with a fashion magazine, and the following week, she was expected to be on her way to a fashion show in Milan. He was happy that all her hard work would be displayed and that she’d be getting some well-deserved credit. He just hoped he could figure out his own issues by the time she returned.

Surely one week was enough time to cleanse his thoughts and refocus. Surely one week was enough time to fall back in love with Sophia. 

If he didn’t get his shit together soon, he knew he’d never be able to fill the hole growing inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you’re thinking!


	3. Noora

### CHAPTER 3 – Noora

Having travelled a lot, more than the average woman her age, the flight from Oslo to London Gatwick Airport was smooth sailing. Being the well-organized journalist she was, Noora had already finished most of her work back in Oslo. But a woman like Noora could always find something to do, whether it meant starting something new or improving something old. As soon as the seatbelt sign was turned off, she’d pulled out her trusty laptop but was quickly disappointed. Her email inbox told her that there was no internet connection to be found. Of course. In that very moment, an elegant brunette in a black uniform walked by.

 “Excuse me?” Noora politely raised her hand as to gain the stewardess’ attention. The staff member heard her request, immediately causing her to turn on her heels.

“Yes, miss?”

“Do you know if you have wifi on board?” Her boss knew that she was out of the country for her assignment, but Noora would hate to suddenly get online and have a billion mails piled up in her inbox. It felt more secure to check it regularly. It was ironic how addicted to electronics she’d grown. Back in high school, even university, she’d been very ‘offline’ compared to her classmates and mostly stuck to only using it when really necessary. These days she couldn’t imagine going a day without internet, her phone or laptop. These gadgets were her all and everything, the umbilical cord between her and her career, which saddened her a bit now that she thought about it.

“No, I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait till we land and connect to the airport’s wifi.” An apologetic smile stuck to the stewardess’ lips as she spoke politely, probably feeling sorry for Noora’s addiction. At least that’s what Noora couldn’t help but think, as she accepted the verdict with a nod. “Okay, thank you.”

The blonde, her hair just barely reaching her chest these days, leaned back in her seat and shut down her laptop. So much for being effective 24/7. Telling herself that she needed to calm down, that maybe it wasn’t that bad, Noora forced her eyes shut and tried to fall asleep. Sleeping now, when she was bound to land at 10 PM, could have consequences and cause a sleepless night. But it wouldn’t be the first time and worst case? She could use the night to work.

Two hours later, just like planned, Noora stepped off the plane with her cabin sized suitcase. This little coinstrant allowed her to skip the chaos and claustrophobia of waiting by the baggage delivery. This wasn’t her first time flying and she’d use all the tricks possible in order to make it in and out of the airport as fast as possible. Every second was precious, especially in a city like London, and she wasn’t about to waste it in the airport. As she rushed purposely away from the plane, looking out through the huge windows which created a wide panoramic outlook on all the planes, nostalgia washed over her like a tsunami hitting a shore. The last time she was here, there was no luggage in her hand. Instead there was his soft hand keeping her company. He’d been there before, more than countless times, and his confidence had seemed to have had a calming effect on her. Now that she was back, thinking about him again, it wasn’t just in the airport. It was always.

Before her wandering her thoughts could lure her too far away from the present and reality, she ran into the line at passport control. The only good thing about these was that she had plenty of time to rummage through her handbag to find her passport. Finally finding it at the very bottom, she flipped it open and was met by a picture of herself. Her eyes wandered to the date of issuance, then right back to the picture. Not that she looked old now, she was in her best age after all, but she couldn’t help but think that she looked very young in that picture. Though it was in black and white, she could tell that her lips were painted red and her hair barely reached her shoulders. It hadn’t been that short since the last time she was in the very same airport - not arriving but fleeing. She sometimes wondered what she fled from…

By midnight, Noora finally unlocked the door to her hotel room and threw herself on the bed. Her phone had allowed her to check her email at the airport, giving her some peace and allowing her to go straight to bed. Only a couple of mails had rushed into her inbox during her offline flight, most of them being innocent. Just one caught her immediate attention. It happened to be the program for the following days. After checking that her alarm was set, she put away her phone and rolled over on her side, facing the window that had a beautiful view of the busy city, seeming to sparkle, but actually it was just the thousands of cabs and cars furiously rushing around - even during this late evening hour. Though feeling exhausted and sleep was winning over her will to stay awake and enjoy the view, she quickly managed to mentally run through the following days busy schedule:

The hotel had a nice breakfast between 7 and 10 AM, but wanting to enjoy the city, Noora decided that she was going to head to a local café instead. This way she could bring her work bag, and do some more research while she ate. Having already studied Sophia a lot, she knew that she was a perfectionist and a woman with no time to waste. Noora respected that, relating to the mindset, and therefor wanted to make sure that every question was 200% thought out and acceptable for her to ask. After breakfast, she’d have to stop by the ELLE-office in London to pick up some kind of ‘thank you for the interview’-gift for Sophia, before she had to head back to the hotel to get ready for a dinner reservation with the designer at the Fenchurch restaurant. Luckily it was paid by the company, Noora had thought as she earlier that day had looked up the place. It was indeed stunning, with a breathtaking view over London and only complimentary reviews. But while she did have a good, solid pay, there was no way she would ever allow herself to pay that much for food. After dinner and hopefully getting a good feeling of Sophia in a more casual and less orchestrated setting, she’d head back to the hotel and make everything ready for the interview the following morning. With that last thought, her brain followed her closed eyes’ lead and shut down for that day.

As expected, her alarm woke her up at 8 AM. Being all too used to this - 8 AM feeling like a vacation-kind of time to get up - and having no good reason to hit snooze, Noora swung her legs out of bed and turned off the noisy alarm. Of course this trip was for work purposes, but until she had to head for dinner tonight, Noora decided to leave her heels and nice shirts packed away for now, instead reaching for her comfortable chelsea boots and a cozy, gray sweater. After quickly cleaning her face, teeth and putting her hair in a messy yet elegant bun, she grabbed her work bag and headed out the door.

People could call London a rainy city all they wanted, they were indeed right, but Noora didn’t think of it as a negative thing. Rain was nice, she thought as she stepped through a large puddle and headed for her favorite café. Rain felt like the skies crying, leaving a feeling of refreshment behind. It came alive in the shape of fresh, crisp air and the smell of wet asphalt. Now way Noora could ever hate that after the many years of emotional torment and excessive crying she’d lived through during her late teen years. Heartbreak had never passed by unnoticed. Just like hurricanes.

After quickly settling down by a big window at her favorite café from back when she lived here, she got herself a hot cocoa and a bowl of yogurt with fruit and granola to keep her company. She wasn’t one to listen to music when she worked, no she’d much rather listen to the world and people around her. That much she’d kept from when she was younger. A lot of people seemed to think that music could save lives, which Noora respected when she was told so, but then again she personally had a stronger belief in people saving people. It was easier to hold onto something once you’d experienced it yourself.

Being the first thing she did, not only on the go but always, the young journalist immediately began checking and replying to emails. By the time she finished, at least two hours had gone by and her cocoa had gone cold. She allowed herself to lean back in her seat, exhaling the air she felt like she’d been keeping inside the entire time she was working. Oh well, it’d just taste like chocolate milk then. Her slender fingers grabbed the cold mug, leading it to her mouth and allowing her to swallow the last sip. Just as good - even cold. The empty mug back on the table, she looked out the window and stared, hoping that some uncompleted task would pop into her mind. Locals rushed by, men and women, not as much as noticing her stare.

London was such a viable and diverse city. People of all ages, genders, cultures and beliefs were somehow thrown into this one spot and seemed to blend in a beautifully busy landscape. Only another person could chase one away from such a lovely place.

“May I clean your table, miss?”

A voice pulled Noora out of her British daydream and right back into her seat by the big window, now being face to face with a tall red haired boy with an apron around his waist. 

“Oh- uhm, yeah. Thank you,” she picked up the empty mug and bowl in order to give it to him.

“Thank you,” he sent her a polite smile as he took the utensils from her hands and walked away.

Her eyes landed on her now black laptop screen. For how long had she been staring out the window? She gently tapped the mouse pad and watched the screen light up before her eyes, allowing them to scan over a check-list. Only one task was un-checked.

“Sophia engagement,” she read out loud to herself, opening the browser and starting to type it out. Just about to hit search, her phone suddenly rung, taking her attention away from the laptop. She looked at the name on her phone’s screen. _Frida Nielsson_ \- her boss.

“Hello?”

One minute she was comfortably sipping on cocoa in a café, the next she was almost running down the street to catch the train back to her hotel. Frida’s call had turned out to be very important, urgent even, as it happened to concern today’s schedule. Instead of meeting Sophia for dinner at 6, it had been moved to 5 since Sophia had a important event later that evening. Feeling like she had a heart attack when she looked at the time, and saw that it was already noon, Noora had thrown her stuff into her bag, paid and left the café immediately. The ELLE-office was on the outskirts of London, meaning that it’d take her almost an hour to get there. If the trains stuck to their schedule, and she walked fast enough, she could be back at the hotel by 4, leaving her half an hour to change into something nice and freshen up. Some people worked best when under pressure. Noora wasn’t one of them. Stress wasn’t exactly her favorite kind of motivation, but it sure did keep her going in the moment. No way she’d be late for that dinner. The stakes were too high for any kind of gambling.

5 minutes to 5, Noora stepped into the Fenchurch’s beautiful and almost overwhelming surroundings. Even with very limited time, she’d managed to straighten her usually wavy hair and put together a nice outfit. Noora loved meeting new people and interviewing them. What she didn’t love was figuring out what to wear. What was too fancy? What wasn’t fancy enough? What a draining problem... Anyhow she’d managed to settle for a black blazer on top of her classiest, black dress pants, dark blue turtleneck and her damned black heels. What lengths she wouldn’t go to for the sake of looking presentable. She was immediately greeted by a waiter, asking her for her reservation name.

“Noora Saetre for ELLE Norway. Table for two.”

The waiter looked into the reservations, his eyes moving up and down in search of her name. Moments like these always made her feel slightly anxious, momentarily making her panic, because what if her name wasn’t there? How would she ever be able to explain that to her boss or even Sophia?

“Yes, I see. But the reservation has been changed from two to three guests.”

A confused frown crept onto Noora’s face. In the email it’d said ‘dinner with Sophia at Fenchurch’. No other name or title was mentioned?

“When was the number of guests changed? And by who?”

The waiter looked back at the screen, clicking a few things in a hunt for answers.

“It says here that a Frida Nielsson called at about 11 AM, telling us that she’d like to add a guest to the reservation. Everything alright?” The waiter was clearly confused by Noora’s confusion, but stayed professional as she picked up three menus. 

“Uhm,” Noora nervously ran a hand through her hair, before letting it drop to her side. “Yes, she’s my boss. A table for three is fine.”

“Perfect. Follow me and I’ll show you to your table.”

Noora was seated at a table by a huge window and thereafter offered some water while she waited. The watch attached to her wrist told her that it was 2 minutes to 5, meaning that Sophia would be there any minute, believing that a woman of her status would now allow herself to be late. Absolutely correct. Seconds later, Noora saw the tall woman walk into the room wearing an elegant, tight beige dress and heels that gave her a height that was probably the double of Noora’s. The woman smiled politely as she approached the table, offering a now standing Noora her hand.

“You must be Noora Saetre?” Her British accent made her seem even more prestigious than she already did. Though she, based on a first impression, appeared very down to earth, Noora couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the slightly older and basically perfect woman. Every single thing about her was spot on.

“Yes, thank you so much for meeting me here. I really appreciate this opportunity to work with you, Sophia.” After shaking hands, the women took their respective seats across from each other and got around to order their drinks and food. After spending at least 10 minutes on discussing wine with the waiter, Sophia finally settled for a red wine, before turning back to Noora with an always beautiful and polite smile.

“Would you like the same? We could share a bottle.”

“No thank you,” Noora declined politely, asking for some sparkling water with lemon. “I don’t really drink alcohol. It makes me feel sick.”

It was clear to see, even though she tried to hide it, that Sophia was not very familiar nor fond of that mindset. Noora didn’t expect otherwise. As a fiery feminist, Noora wasn’t one to judge or put people in boxes, but if a woman of Sophia’s kind had declined wine, she would’ve indeed been surprised.

“So, Noora… Tell me a bit about yourself. You probably already know so much about me.” A chuckled danced off the designer’s perfect, lipstick-covered lips.

“A journalist has got to do what a journalist has got to do,” Noora joked back, already feeling a bit more comfortable in the successful woman’s presence. “But uhm, where to start… I’m 25 years old and from a little, town in Norway that nobody knows about. I moved to Madrid when I was 15 and then afterwards back to Oslo, where I’ve been ever since high school - except for a few months, where I actually lived here in London. I’ve seen my share of the world. Writing and travelling has always been my passion, so my job at ELLE is a dream come true. I get amazing opportunities like these.”

Sophia’s perfectly manicured hands were folded under her chin as she listened to Noora talk.

“I love my own workfield, but I have to admit that I’ve always had a weak spot for journalism as well. You must be a brilliant and lucky lady. And Oslo sounds like such a lovely place. A lot of my friends and colleagues have been there on business, and have only had good things to say. My fiancé is actually from Oslo! He loved it as well.”

Noora smiled, seeing how Sophia started to glow as soon as she mentioned her fiancé. There was no doubt in Noora’s mind that this was a woman who was very much in love. “But now he loves you more and is in London with you?”

Sophia let out a chuckle, briefly sending a smile to the waiter who discreetly placed their drinks in front of them. “Yeah, we’ve been together for almost 6 years now,” she ended her sentence by grabbing her tall wine glass and taking a sip. 

“6 years? That sounds so lovely. I never got to look much into your engagement or relationship when I was doing research, but I also suspect that you guys try to stay private?” 

“I mean... “ Sophia giggled like a young school girl in love. Noora smiled sheepishly, really feeling how smitten the woman was. The guy really had to be something for her to act like that.

“Yes, most of the time we do stay pretty private. But you know, once in a while, something will slip onto instagram or my blog. Not my fault he’s too perfect to hide away.”

Even considering the amount of time she spent on her phone and laptop, Noora had never spent much time on social media. When she was online it’d be work-related or for movie-streaming. Rarely the inbetween. Sophia, on the other hand, was obviously from a completely other environment. Social media got people talking, and when people talked it meant free advertising. It would be weird if Sophia wasn’t active on social medias. Not that she was out to do so, but she couldn’t really judge Sophia for doing what she did. In the end it was all business.

“I’m glad he makes you so happy. He must be a very good man then.”

“Oh, yes. He’s just lovely. I love him so much.” A face of realization suddenly met Noora from across the table. “But hey! He’s coming a bit later, after he’s done at work, so you’ll get to meet him. It shouldn't be too long before he arrives. I made him promise that he’d make it to dessert. Maybe you guys have met before, since you’re from Oslo! That would be so fun!”

Something clicked in the back of Noora’s mind. Now she knew why the reservation had been changed from two to three guests. Of course the beau was coming. The more details Noora and ELLE could get, the better it would be for everyone. Noora would write a great article, ELLE would hopefully love it and publish it, and Sophia would get some good publicity.

“That sounds lovely. I can’t wait to meet him then. And I mean… Oslo is pretty big, so I doubt it, but you never know.”

Noora chuckled, hoping that this fiancé was just as perfect in real life as Sophia made him out to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated :) we love to hear from you.


	4. William

Chapter 4 - William

William stepped out of the cab, dusted himself unnecessarily (he was almost always wrinkle-free these days) and tugged at each of his sleeves before paying the driver. He looked up, into the London sky and followed the building before him until his eyes landed on the wide panel of glass where the Fenchurch Restaurant overlooked the city. He’d suggested it to Sophia early on in their engagement as a potential wedding reception venue, but she’d shot him down—something he’d found surprising. She’d never given him a good reason. As William looked on at the view from below, appreciating the unique shape of the building itself, he imagined that the view from above must be breathtaking. Why anyone wouldn’t want to enjoy that on the happiest night of their life was beyond him.  
  
He was disappointed that he’d missed sunset. Even though he hadn’t promised to make it in time, he’d been hoping to get out of his meeting early and surprise Sophia. Now, it was almost eight in the evening and the representative from the magazine would surely be wrapping up. Not that it was any matter, he and Sophia could get a drink and dessert on their own if she was through with dinner.  
  
The ascent to the top floor of the Sky Garden was noticeably tedious, but not overly time consuming. He checked his watch even though he knew what time it was. The minute hand had hardly moved from where it had sat when he was on the sidewalk outside. When the elevator doors signaled he’d reached his floor, he swept through them and hurried to the kiosk where a waiter stood, poised and ready to assist.  
  
“How many will you have tonight, sir?”  
  
“I’m looking for someone, actually,” William said, glancing over the waiter’s shoulder. “Sophia Brooks.”  
  
The waiter made a few keystrokes as he filtered through the reservations. Just as he looked up to escort William to the correct table, William cut him off by holding out his hand.  
  
“I see her,” he said. He finally looked back at the waiter who was now wearing a rather dumbfounded look on his face. Flashing him a brief but apologetic smile, William clapped his already extended hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thanks.”  
  
He took his time as he made his way across the room, taking in the atmosphere. Every table was full, the room was alive with conversation, and the city looked beautiful below them, bright and twinkling, promising good things to come.  
  
He could hear Sophia’s voice even before he had crossed half the room. She was speaking animatedly about something and who he could only assume was the journalist sitting across from her was being polite and laughing along, either genuinely interested or very good at her job. William imagined it was probably a combination of the two. He knew from experience that Sophia’s anecdotes seldom made sense unless you were a witness to it first-hand. Just as he was about to reach their table, Sophia went to take a drink of her wine and looked up long enough to meet his gaze. She gave an exclamation of surprise and excitement and quickly pulled the glass away from her mouth, swallowing the sip she’d taken with ease.  
  
If it had been him, he’d have choked.  
  
As he drew nearer, she stood to greet him. Once again, she was too tall in the heels she’d worn that day. She stood over him by only a few inches, but it was something he’d mentioned made him feel self-conscious time and time again. He was by no means short, but, naturally speaking, neither was she. He gave her a kiss hello, bringing her into a quick hug and then moved around to sit beside her.  
  
Just as he was about to take his seat and excuse himself for being late, he looked across the table and laid eyes on the journalist who’d spent the last several hours with his fiancée.  
  
The years had been kind to her. Much kinder than he thought they’d been to him, though he must admit neither of them had changed much since they’d last seen one another. He would have known her anywhere, and it came as a shock that he hadn’t noticed it as he approached her from behind.  
  
The same angled shoulders.  
  
The same blunt but sophisticated haircut.  
  
The same trill of brilliant, genuine laughter.  
  
He should have known. Maybe then he could have avoided the scene that began to unfold as he lingered a moment too long taking his seat.  
  
The second Noora looked up from where she was pouring herself a fresh glass of water, the world imploded around them. Or so it felt.  
  
Her eyes grew to the size of saucers and almost instantly, the glass slipped from her fingers, crashing down on top of their dishes and rolling into Sophia’s wine glass, effectively soaking the table cloth and sending the red liquid rushing toward Sophia’s lap.  
  
The designer gasped in shock and threw herself backward as to avoid getting wet, while Noora stayed where she was, the shock of it all too much to allow for rational thinking. William reacted quickly, picking up the bottle and making an attempt to dab at the puddle forming around them, if for no other reason than to have something to do with his hands—a reason not to keep from staring at the only person who’d ever truly hurt him.  
  
Clichés be damned, time did not heal all wounds.  
  
“Oh my god,” Noora said in a rush, the words spilling out together like they were one entity.  
  
She threw herself out of her chair and seemed to do the same thing he was: find anything to focus on as long as it wasn’t the other. He continued to dab at the table, though it was obvious they’d need a new cloth all together at this point and watched out of the corner of his eye as she rushed around the table and offered Sophia her clean cloth napkin so that she could dab at the dress. It had a huge purple stain, right in the middle and it was only growing.  
  
William flinched as he watched Sophia swat Noora’s hand away and place her own hands at either side of her head—something he knew to mean she was trying to quell a temper.  
  
“I’m sure they have club soda,” he said, trying to diffuse the tension. “Look, there’s someone coming to help now. Why don’t you ask if they can find you some and go get cleaned up in the restroom? We’ll reset the table.”  
  
Without even looking to Noora, Sophia stormed off in the direction of the restrooms, making a scene the whole way.  
  
“Oh my god,” Noora said again, standing in defeat as she watched the other woman’s retreating form. “Oh my god.”  
  
“She’ll get over it,” William said from across the table, still not daring meet her gaze. He busied himself stacking dishes and thanked a waitress when she came over to remove them and replace the white linen atop the table.  
  
When it was cleared, and all the damage seemed to have vanished (aside from the wine stain on Sophia’s dress, more likely than not, though only time would tell) Noora let herself sink back into her chair and William gently did the same. After a moment, people went back to eating and conversation picked back up, but it was a beat longer for their table to follow suit.  
  
“I’m going to lose my job,” Noora said in a daze, her eyes trained on the bathroom door. “I can’t believe you’re her fiancé and that I’m going to lose my job over this. Fuck London.”  
  
“I couldn’t have said it better myself. Fuck London,” William said. He raised his hand and ushered for a waiter then ordered a scotch neat, a fresh glass of carbonated water with lemon, and a glass of white wine—whatever they had would do, “just make sure it’s at the table by the time the lady returns.”  
  
In record time, they each had a new glass before them. Noora wished very much that she was more of a drinker, as she imagined that a strong drink of some kind would do wonders for her nerves about now. Remembering what had happened the last time, however, was enough to make her water taste satisfying.  
  
William had tossed his scotch back and raised the empty glass in the air to silently order another all within the first thirty seconds of having ordered the first. When he laid the empty glass to rest on the table, he turned back to look toward the restroom, making sure the coast was clear.  
  
“Maybe I should go check on her…” Noora wondered out loud.  
  
He turned to face her. She had her lips parted just barely, forming that small ‘o’ he’d come to love. Either it or the scotch made his stomach flip but judging by the way his heart seemed to skip a beat, he thought it was most likely the former.  
  
He really was one big, walking cliché.  
  
William watched the anxiety overrun her features, starting in her brow and fizzling out in defeat somewhere around her bottom lip, depicting itself in an adorable little twitch where she raked the rosy flesh between her teeth. The movement alone made him want to jump across the table and pull her to him, dipping her so low that her back might as well lean against the table. So, what if they spilled the water again? They’d hooked up against messier surfaces than wet linen.  
  
His pulse quickened just thinking about the last time they’d been in a situation like that and he tried his best to push it from his mind.  
  
Finally, she let her gaze land on him and he saw the thoughts trickle through her mind, filtering in behind her eyes.  
  
“I can’t believe it’s you,” she said again. This time she sounded more disappointed than shocked.  
  
He wanted to say a handful of things in return:  
  
_Who else would it be?  
  
Didn’t it cross your mind as a possibility?  
  
It shouldn’t matter to you—you’re the one that packed up and left without a word. I have the right to move on._  
  
All of these things, and a few others that he didn’t allow himself to even consider would have been suitable things to say in response, but William kept himself from saying any of them.  
  
Instead, he thanked the waiter for his second scotch, took a drink, and dared one more glance over his shoulder. This time, Sophia was making her way back, the stain considerably less red, but by no means gone.  
  
William caught Noora’s gaze and held it, not letting her turn away.  
  
“There are two ways through this,” he started, speaking quickly. “We tell her we know each other and are forced to explain everything, or we play it off as an accident and move on, relatively unscathed. Which will it be?”  
  
Noora’s lips parted again before her eyebrows knitted together and William really thought he might have jumped across the table and taken her right then and there if it weren’t for the other woman approaching behind them.  
  
Her gaze darted over his shoulder and he could feel Sophia’s approach. So be it, he would decide for them.  
  
He stood and pulled out the chair to his right. “Here you are,” he said evenly, holding her at arm’s length for a beat before helping her sit and scoot into the table. “I don’t think that’ll set, will it?”  
  
He had no idea if it would or wouldn’t, but he hoped optimism was the way to go in the moment.  
  
“No, I should think the dress is ruined,” she said, and he could tell by the look on her face that she was trying her hardest to sound laid back about the whole thing, but her tone sounded anything but.  
  
Noora, who had also stood to greet Sophia’s return, now sat at the edge of her seat. “I’m so sorry,” she said.  
  
William swept in as an attempt to save her. “I think I caught her off guard,” he said. “She said she was completely caught up in thinking about what you’d been saying that she hadn’t realized I’d arrived.”  
  
Noora shot him a sympathetic look across the table and when Sophia was looking out the window, taking a long and thoughtful drink, she mouthed thank you in his direction. She owed him big time—a thank you, and, it would seem, an explanation. There was no way she’d be getting out of running into him without somehow discussing the way she’d run out on him. Not unless she was lucky.  
  
When Sophia removed the glass form her lips, she seemed to have forgiven Noora for causing a disturbance. “You were really that taken by my ideas on haute couture, were you?” She seemed to think for a moment. “I might have a few sketches in my studio I could send along to your editor; call it an exclusive preview.”  
  
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Noora said, pulling herself together and drifting along like nothing had ever happened, forever the face of professionalism.  
  
William had no idea what they were talking about, but he was glad to find that Sophia was forgetting, at least in some respect, about the events that had just occurred, and had not (not yet at least) picked up on anything secretive between the two.  
  
What he had expected to be dull and eventless night full of droll conversation surrounding fashion had turned out to be quite the opposite. Conversation melded effortlessly between the three of them, at times Noora and William getting swept up in their own question and answer, leaving Sophia to play a specter.  
  
_You say you’re from Oslo? Where did you study? ...It’s a wonder we never ran into each other…_  
  
They could have gone on for hours, and if he were given the opportunity, William would have gladly.  
  
He imagined he had another sleepless night ahead of him, and there was absolutely no way he’d be getting Noora out of his head now. Not when he knew she was sleeping alone in an otherwise empty bed only a train ride away from his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to follow along! Let us know what you’re thinking through a comment, either here or on our tumblrs! We a,ways appreciate hearing from you. Lights up our day :D


	5. Noora

CHAPTER 5 - Noora

 

If she hadn’t been so aware of exactly why her heart was beating so sharply and furiously, Noora could’ve sworn that she was having a heart attack. Dinner had ended a few minutes ago, and while the mood had been surprisingly okay, Noora took in a deep breath of fresh air as soon as she walked outside. Being a part of tonight’s dinner party had felt like not breathing. Who knew it was even possible to hold your breath for that long? 

Formally and to Noora’s great relief, the three of them were still just acquaintances, which meant that they ended the night with a polite handshake. Even just an innocent, friendly hug could've probably sent her to hell and back. During dinner, starting to fall back into the old, familiar comfort of William’s presence, the ambitious blonde was afraid of falling back into old habits. Multiple times, she’d had to bite her own tongue in order to not bust her cover. Maybe she hadn’t moved on - at least not permanently - but at least for the evening, she had to forget about her and William’s past. It obviously didn’t matter anymore. Not that Noora had as much as considered contacting or running into the handsome brunette ever again, but him turning up as Sophia’s fiancé had definitely shook things up within her. Good to know that at least  _ he _ had moved on - especially after what she’d done to him.

Getting back to the hotel couldn’t happen fast enough, so against her own rules, Noora hailed over a cab and paid the absurd price it demanded. At least she got to lean back in the leather seat and enjoy the pretty scenery rushing by outside. It took her back to her first ‘date’ with William, driving through Oslo in his sickening cliché of a car. If only she’d known back then, what she was getting herself into that night: The happiest  but also toughest chapter of her life. 

As soon as Noora got back to her hotel room, she kicked off her heels and turned off her laptop. This called for damage control, she thought as she clicked the Skype icon. It rung for a few seconds. 

“Hello?”

Noora placed the laptop on her bed, sitting cross-legged in front of the screen, where Sana’s face had appeared a few seconds ago. Out of all people, Sana always knew how to walk her through her William-tantrums. This wasn’t the first, after all.

“Oh my god, Sana,” Noora moaned, rubbing her temples as to emphasize the chaotic character of the situation. “You’ll never believe what kind of shit-show my life has turned into.” 

“Well hello to you too,” Sana chuckled back in Oslo, surprised but also curious about what was causing her friend such sudden eruption. They’d talked just a couple of days before Noora’s departure, and it was obvious that the blonde was excited and ready for the big assignment. What on earth could cause such backlash? 

“Sana,” Noora paused, considering what she was going to say next whilst rubbing her face with her still cold hands. “London will forever and always be a cursed city. I should’ve never come here.” 

“Girl, stop being shady and tell me what’s going on?” Her friend was getting impatient, which was understandable. It was almost 10 PM, and knowing Sana well enough, Noora knew that she had caught her on her way to bed. As a hard-working medical student, she needed her share of sleep. Noora would have to make this brief. “He’s here and he’s her fiancé.”

Not impressed by the amount of information she was presented, still very much confused, Sana furrowed her eyebrows and frowned. “Who’s there and who’s whose fiancé? Names, please!”

Noora knew she was a mess to listen to and took a deep breath in order to collect herself. After all, not saying it out loud wouldn’t make it any less true. Facts were facts. She as a journalist should be the one to know. Another deep breath was taken, before she breathed out the heavy words, “William is here. He’s Sophia Brooks’ fiancé. So yeah… The future Mrs. Sophia Magnusson is who I’m working with and whose house I have to go to tomorrow morning.” 

On her screen, Noora could see that Sana’s brows left their furrowed state and shot right up in surprise. A small, uneasy smile followed along as it kind of was a bit ironic that this was happening.  “Shit, girl. Have you ran across him yet?”

“Well yeah,” Noora scoffed, not being rude, but because she still didn’t want to believe it herself. “I ran right into a three hour long dinner with him and Sophia. Oh yeah, and when he walked in, right? I was so shocked that I basically spilled red wine all over Sophia. I’m such a moron.”   

Sana really did feel bad for her friend’s chaos, but couldn’t help but let out a sweet chuckle. It wasn’t impossible to be a funny and helpful friend at the same time. First the laughs, then the helping.

“It’s not funny, Sana.” Noora, on the other hand, was having a meltdown. What were the odds of running into William, who not only was her biggest love of all time but was now also engaged… To someone whom Noora herself had to work with. She didn’t remember signing up for a role in a rom-com before leaving Oslo, but it sure did feel like it. 

“Okay, but all jokes aside… How was it? Besides a ‘shit-show’, I mean,” Sana used her friend’s words from earlier on, adding the air quotes with her fingers. “And be honest. The magic hijab will know if you’re lying anyways.” 

The loudest sigh in the world, or so it felt, escaped Noora’s body as she tilted her head back and looked up into the white ceiling. The one thing she hadn’t done since running into William that day was assembling her thoughts, so that would be her next move. A few moments of silence went by, the two friends taking their time to examine the tragedy, before proceeding. “At first it felt like a kick to the gut… And that is in all honesty. I felt so thrown off and somehow exposed, even though Sophia didn’t know anything. I mean, so I think... I don’t expect William to have shoved pictures and stories of me in her face.” The blonde had to chuckle at her own comment, nervously playing with the little silver ring on her index finger. “Then after getting over the heart attack I got from seeing him, and the part where I wanted to jump out the window after spilling wine on Sophia… Then it was surprisingly okay. Dare I say nice even.” 

Sana sat in silence, patiently listening to her friend, giving small nods in response as to not interrupt her. When she sensed the blonde coming to a halt, she took advantage and spoke up. “Did Sophia suspect anything? Like about you and William?”

Noora shook her head, pushing down her cuticles as to keep her fingers occupied. “No. We just internally agreed on acting it off as strangers. I just…” The blonde interrupted herself with a sigh, giving off a torn and frustrated rayonnement. “In some twisted way, it felt nice to see him. He hasn’t changed much.” 

Completely understanding that William would forever hold a special place in her friend’s heart, Sana wasn’t going to scold her for feeling that way. It made sense. On the other hand, Sana knew that she had to do her job as a friend and warn her. William was fire and Noora was known to have played with it before. Though Noora had good morals, William was famous for provoking them. 

“Watch out with that whole lying-thing. Don’t let it backfire.”

The blonde’s blue eyes left her nails, redirecting to the laptop’s screen. She suddenly seemed more determined. “I won’t let it. William and I are history. I’m going to give Sophia and this article my full attention. Once the job is done, I’m out of here and this will just be another silly story to tell.” 

Immediately noticing Noora’s way calmer attitude, a warm smile spread on Sana plump lips. She always felt very honored, whenever Noora called her to talk. It felt nice to know that there were other people out there who trusted her with their problems and craziest thoughts. 

“Good. I know you can do it, girl. You’re ELLE’s best and most determined journalist after all.”

Finally, for the first time during the chat, a genuinely content smile crept onto Noora’s winter-pale lips. Her eyes shined along. “Thank you. Not just for that last compliment, but also for listening. I don’t know what I would do without you and your magic hijab.” 

They shared a chuckle at the inside joke. “Of course. That’s what we’re here for… So you’ll be okay?”

Noora nodded, seeming much more confident after this little chat. “Yeah, thank you again. I’ll let you get your beauty sleep. I have to get ready for bed myself. Talk to you soon okay?”

“Yeah, sleep well, Noora.”

“Sleep well, Sana.” 

The next day meant show-time. After getting up early and taking advantage of the hotel’s breakfast, Noora arrived at Sophia house by 9AM. Sophia herself opened the door, wearing another splendid outfit and an even more splendid smile. How was this woman always this flawless?

“Welcome, Noora. Step inside!”

“Thank you,” Noora sent the goddess a shy smile before stepping inside with her black heels. Business was business after all. After being told to keep her shoes on, leaving her coat to hang in the entré, Noora walked into the first room. ‘Expensive’ was the first word to appear in her mind, then ‘clean’. Everything was either brightly white or black as the darkest night. There were no crooked edges, random things lying around or any uncoordinated colors. All in all, it was as flawless as it could get. While William had never been known to be someone who settled for cheap, which this definitely wasn’t, this didn’t seem like him either. It was hard to point out exactly why. She wondered if he was home. Maybe he worked a lot from home too?

“Would you like some coffee or tea?” The designer rounded the kitchen counter that created a natural border between the dining-room and the actual kitchen. 

“Uhm… I’ll have some tea. Any kind is fine. Thank you.” 

Within minutes, both women had each their mug of tea and sat down on the couch in Sophia’s  home-studio. Noora, who never left without her work bag, pulled out a recorded and a paper with the notes she’d prepared for the interview. With all the questions and the natural conversation that happened in between, the interview took about two hours. Within these two hours, Noora got to know the sharp businesswoman a lot more. She was originally from a small town in the middle of nowhere, just like Noora herself, but had wanted bigger and started designing small things on her own. After finally getting accepted to a school in London, she moved there and the rest was history. 

Later that night, as she was looking through the notes she’d taken and listened to the recording of the interview, Noora could feel her heart drop a bit when she reached the part where she’d asked about the engagement. For the second time that day, she spent about 15 minutes listening to Sophia gush about William and how great everything was. How his dad - idiotic dad, Noora may add - had introduced the two. How they’d clicked instantly and moved in together 6 months later. Everything seemed to be pure bliss and all soulmate-like, when it came to these two. Anger wasn’t exactly what Noora felt. Maybe it was more a twisted kind of disappointment. Jealousy even. It could’ve been her and William experiencing all those things. 

That couldn’t be though. She could never in a million years justify these ‘feelings’. Not after what she’d done to herself - and William - when she fled the very same country 8 years ago. While she did kind of hope, deep down inside, that William would’ve been home so that she could see his face one last time, probably ever, he wasn’t. Sophia informed her of his busy days and how he usually only worked from home during the weekends. It was probably for the best, Noora thought, closing and putting away her laptop. 

Her and William were nothing but history. Not even friends anymore. She’d had her bite of him, and decided to leave the rest behind a long time ago. This wasn’t a miracle - just a coincidence. Tomorrow she’d fly back to Oslo and everything would be the way it should be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you! Warm hugs to all of you -- thanks for taking the time to read!


	6. William

Chapter 6 -- William

William sat in his office downtown with his feet propped on the desk and a pen in his hand. As he slowly twirled the cool metal between his fingers, he looked out the window and watched the cars pass below. It was almost half past six in the evening, an hour after he should have left for home, and he had no intentions of getting up any time soon. There was a mountain of unfiled paperwork sitting on his desk, a ridiculous number of unopened emails in his inbox waiting to be read, and he’d been getting odd looks from everyone who passed his office on their way out the door.

Distantly, he knew it was obvious to everyone that he hadn’t gotten anything done all day, but that didn’t seem to matter at the moment. All he could think about was the fact that his ex-girlfriend had been the journalist interviewing his current girlfriend.

No, fiancée. What was wrong with him?

It was really a question he needed to ask… He knew what was wrong. That was just the problem—not only had his ex-girlfriend interviewed his fiancée, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. He’d been having so many second thoughts lately about his relationship with Sophia. The whole debacle over his briefcase (such a stupid and insignificant issue) had brought her to mind and he hadn’t been able to shake the thought of her. Countless nights wondering what Noora was doing, if she was seeing anyone, if she’d gotten married yet herself…

William had no business wondering those things. It wasn’t like he even cared. Noora could do whatever she wanted with her life—she’d always done that anyway. It was just…his life wasn’t turning out the way he’d thought it would when he first moved to London and it was giving him cold feet.

As he continued to stare out the window, he remembered back to the last time he’d felt this kind of all-consuming stress. Just as everything else seemed to do as of late, it made him think of her…

_The end of the work week was always something William looked forward to. Fridays meant Saturday and Sunday in bed with Noora. It meant movies and popcorn and not wearing any clothes. It meant sex in the shower then again in bed before they got dressed. It meant making lunch together and letting things burn as they forgot them on the stove in search of better things laid out across the kitchen table. Weekends meant enjoying each other and forgetting about the fact that life was still hard, even miles away from everything that had happened in Oslo. Moving to London to work for his dad had been a big change, but for the most part it was good._

_Then the time had come for Noora to return to Oslo for the trial against his brother. He could tell she was anxious. He could tell that all her stress was coming back but this time he had other things to worry about too. This time he had his father breathing down his neck and obligations at work. He couldn’t stay home with her and lay in bed all day on a Wednesday. When she packed, and he couldn’t go with her, William had hoped it would turn out for the best. He believed in her and he’d done his best to make sure she knew that._

_Knew he loved her no matter what._

_But then she was back, and something was different and all of a sudden Fridays meant avoiding going home. Fridays turned into drinks with his dad. The first few times, going out had been a way for William to make connections, network himself a bit. After a while, it became a way for him to blow off steam._

_Naturally, if his dad asked him to go out, he said yes. He had stopped asking Noora to join them a long time ago—the first few times she’d agreed, but William could tell she hated it. She didn’t drink, and he wouldn’t force her to, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t change the mood. She would act grumpy and lean into him, pull his face to hers and let her nose touch his gently. She’d remind him of all the other things they could be doing, and as great as it sounded, he could feel there was something else going on. An underlying elephant in the room that was stomping on them with its invisible feet._

_So getting drinks with his dad and not inviting Noora had become a tradition of sorts, even if traditions were usually good things._

_Even if London had been a good move in terms of his career, it had definitely put a stress on their relationship. Noora had become distant and insecure, and he knew he wasn’t doing anything to help that, but he didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t necessarily acting himself either. Or, maybe he was, but it wasn’t the William he was proud of. He knew it wasn’t the William Noora had fallen in love with… The William who had packed up his life in Oslo and boarded a plane with his girlfriend in search of something great had been buried by the one who needed to seek his father’s approval. Like an outsider looking in he could see himself as the very cliché she’d always harassed him for being. But he’d gotten a taste of success and finally meant something in his father’s eyes. Even though Noora had made it clear that she didn’t care for his father or the way William acted when he was around him, he didn’t know if he could throw away a relationship with the one family member he really felt like he had._

_Noora had made a point of telling him on more than one occasion that he had changed. He hadn’t wanted to believe her, even if deep down he could feel it too. Gentle reminders had become loud squabbles sending her storming into their room and him to the bar down the street. What should have been one of the best times in their life together quickly turned into a bed of hot buttons, each of them tiptoeing around each other in fear of setting one off. Then slowly they stopped fighting. For a week or two it had felt like things got better. Or at least less confrontational. But if there was one thing they both succeeded in it was bottling things up, holding a grudge, and avoiding confrontation._

_When William unlocked the door to their apartment well into the wee hours of Saturday morning after a Friday night out, a headache and a hangover already starting to brew, he was surprised to find the lights were still on. Of all the passive aggressive ways she’d gone about making it known she was unhappy with him, wasting electricity hadn’t been one of them. Due to the fact that it only made his headache throb more, he reached out a hand and flipped them off, stumbling through the halls until he found the living room and throwing himself on the first soft piece of furniture he could find._

_The next morning…or maybe it was afternoon (the London light made it appear to be somewhere around mid-day during all waking hours) he pulled himself up off the couch and got a shower._

_Looking back on it made William’s face hot with embarrassment. Avoiding each other had become so second hand for them both that it had taken him most of the day to realize Noora was gone—as in had no plans of returning. When night rolled around, and the sky had grown dark, and after sitting around the apartment all day (or all afternoon, depending on when it was he had actually gotten up in the first place) the thought crossed his mind that she might not have any intention to come home. He’d sent her a text and when it was left unread for over an hour, he thought to check their bedroom. At first glance, nothing seemed off. Her purse was gone, her shoes were not by the bed like they usually were, but that didn’t mean anything._

_But it didn’t stop there. Her drawers were empty, the clothes rack only had his shirts and jackets. Gone was the picture of her, Eva and Sana at her birthday that sat on the dresser. He had run his hands through his hair and over his face, trying to convince himself this wasn’t how it would end. He had wanted to text her and call her, but he was stubborn. He’d already reached out once and dammit if he’d be the one doing it again. If she had a problem, she should have come to him…_

He should have seen the way she was home alone all day and he should have noticed that she wasn’t acting herself. In retrospect, he should have paid more attention to the fact that there was something bigger bothering her but he refused to take all the responsibility. Just thinking through those old feelings filled him with the same irrational aggravation he’d felt in the moment. To just pick up and leave without a word…

He needed a drink.

He’d already been thinking about Noora more than he should have been when he wasn’t in a relationship with her, and now, when he should have been well past all of this, he was reliving one of the worst years of his life.

The icing on the cake was that Noora and Sophia had been alone together all day. Talking about God only knows what. He hoped they weren’t talking about him and he hoped that Noora would keep up the guise of them being complete strangers. Even though he’d thrust it on her the night before, he couldn’t imagine that she would argue—she was a professional, and she had always harbored a rational train of thought.

Just as William was trying to dream up what Noora and Sophia might discuss outside of fashion, because surely, they wouldn’t spend the entire time talking about clothes, one of the other practicing members of the firm walked past his door and leaned on the frame.

“Working hard or hardly working?”

William pulled his feet off his desk and they fell to the floor with a thud. He tried to wipe the vacant, lost look off his face, but judging by the way Tom was looking at him, it wasn’t all together believable.

“Just a lot on my mind,” he said. He thought it sounded rather unconvincing, but it did the trick.

“I would imagine so,” Tom said as he shoved his hand in his pocket, an action that made it seem like he planned on lingering for a lengthy conversation. William definitely wasn’t interested in that.

“Does the wife-to-be have you visiting a lot of venues? When I married Linda it’s all we did—visiting here and there, smelling this flower and that, the fittings, the dinner dates, the schmoozing—who knew there was so much schmoozing to be done in wedding planning? The best part was the food tastings. Do you know they don’t serve full portions? Little bits on small plates. Hardly enough to know if you’ll be satisfied with the final product on the big night.”

William sat and listened as he droned on, hardly paying him enough attention to contribute anything of worth to the conversation. When Tom seemed to pick up on the fact that he wasn’t in the mood to joke or exchange war stories, he moved on.

“Working in the office tomorrow? I know it’s a weekend, but I’m afraid I didn’t get everything finished.”

William was thankful for the change in topic but seeing as Tom would be in the following day, he thought he’d better stay away. He wouldn’t want anyone to notice him being unproductive two days in a row.

“I was supposed to come in tomorrow to finish writing that argument for the Johannes case, but I think I might stay at home, work from there. Sophia will be on business and I think I’ll be more efficient if I can get to work as soon as I wake up.”

“I know that feeling,” Tom said with a wink. He lifted his hand from where it had been stowed in his pocket and turned his back to leave for the day.

William looked to the clock again and let out a deep sigh. It wouldn’t do any good to stay here and dwell on things that had already come and gone. Noora should be long gone by now and seeing her had cleared him of any romantic notions he’d been having before. They were finished, their time together now long a part of the past. As he closed out of his tabs on the computer and shut everything down, collecting his paperwork and slipping it into the soft leather of his bag, he thought maybe he would take the time to try out the new briefcase when he got home, like he’d promised Sophia.

He thought he might stop by a bar on his way home too. She’d hardly miss him if he were another hour or two later than he’d planned. She rarely did.


	7. Noora

Chapter 7 — Noora

 

The following morning, as she was silently nibbling on some fruit, Noora sat in the hotel restaurant and looked through the previous issue of ELLE Norway. Before leaving Oslo, her boss had made some references to the previous issue, pointing out some minor gaffes that she wanted Noora’s opinion on. Being the trooper and good colleague that she was, Noora of course accepted the task. If anything, it could only make her even better at her job which was an opportunity she’d never let slip by.

Causing her to jump back in her seat, just slightly but enough to turn heads, Noora’s phone rang out loud to tell her that someone was trying to reach her. Her eyes switched to the name on the screen. Frida Nielsson - her boss. Without hesitating for another second, she put down the magazine and reached for her still loud phone.

“Noora Saetre speaking.”

Instead of jumping back into it like just moments ago, the blonde allowed herself to lean back into her seat as she listened to her boss’ fast-paced but nonetheless rapturous voice telling her that she loved the notes and recording from Sophia’s interview. The previous day, as soon as she got back from Sophia’s, Noora had carefully read through her detailed, meticulous notes and re-listened to the recordings before she emailed them to Frida. Even though her boss trusted her completely and it was definitely Noora’s article to write, she liked having someone look through the preliminary work before she actually started sculpting the actual article. Her pale, bare lips spread into a modest but proud smile. Ever since she’d started working at ELLE as an intern, multiple years ago, Noora had always admired Frida, her character and the work she did. Being praised by her was more than a simple compliment and definitely the confident boost she needed during these odd, nostalgic days.

In contrast to her before laid-back posture, the woman suddenly sat up straight in her seat as her pupils grew in with worry and surprise.

“B-but I’ve never been in charge of pictures before. I don’t know how to do that?”

In her head that phrase sounded a lot different: She’d never been in charge of pictures before, so why did she have to be now that it meant that she’d have to go back to Sophia and William’s place?

It was all starting to feel like a prank.

“Yes, of course I want to expand my knowledge, but-“

Frida’s voice cut her off, all the way from Oslo, continuing her speech, explaining the case and why Noora needed to go back. There was no discussion. No, Noora had to envision what she needed for her article, go back to the apartment later that very same day and produce a series of photos for her article. A team consisting of a photographer, a make-up artist and a currently unknown number of assistants would meet her there, allowing her to collaborate with them in order to create whatever she needed for her article. Everything was up to her as long as it benefited both ELLE and Sophia.

“Okay?” Noora agreed with her boss’ terms, simultaneously internally questioning whether or not she actually had a choice. After that the conversation quickly ended, allowing the blonde to put down her phone and stare into the clear air and revealing her strong sensation of hopelessness. Frida was right. This was a great opportunity for a journalist with her talent and her amount experience, but why did this experiment have to involve a rather emotional challenge as well?

She looked at the clock. 9.23. One of Frida’s assistants had already re-booked her flight and prolonged her hotel stay. Everything was in place and there was no way around it. In approximately an hour and a half she’d be back at the famous apartment - whether she actually wanted it or not.

So there she was. It was 10.53 as Noora rung the bell to the luxurious home, awaiting a perfect, smiling Sophia who’d - any second now - open the door with the enormous, blinding rock on her finger. Seconds, more than expected, went by and started to worry Noora. She was just about to lose her breath, small signs of anxiety kicking in, when the door in front of her finally opened up wide. An older woman wearing an apron, small with grey hair and gentle but tired eyes, sent her a confused but also rather warm smile. Perhaps Sophia hadn’t had the time to inform the woman - who Noora believed was the housekeeper - of their last-minute appointment.

“Hello, dear. How may I help you?”

“Hello. Uhm, I’m Noora from ELLE-magazine. There’s been some last minute changes, so you might not have been informed, but I’m supposed to-“

Even though small and slightly wrinkled, the housekeeper’s eyes seemed to widen in realisation just before she grabbed Noora’s tiny wrist and pulled her inside, through the entré and into the ‘kitchen meets dining room’. Barely but just managing to get off her coat, a shocked Noora figured that her name had rung a bell and let herself be dragged inside. Her skinny, tall silhouette was planted in the midst of the white, flawless dining room, when the older woman finally let go of her.

“Ms. Brooks and Mr. Magnusson mentioned having dinner with you. How lovely to meet you! I’m Jessica. I help out around the house.” Still very much confused but feeling very welcomed by Jessica, Noora grabbed the woman’s now reached out hand and politely shook it.  “I had the day off yesterday, so I haven’t heard about any meetings or plans from either Ms. Brooks or Mr. Magnusson, but you can just make yourself comfortable and I’m sure she’ll come around. Would you like some tea or coffee?”

Noora, still feeling way too aware and alert about the oddness of the situation and the perfect surroundings to relax, anxiously rocked side to side in the same spot she was left in. Feeling stressed ever since the call from Frida, she hadn’t been able to eat anything so a cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt. She needed some kind of fuel to run on.

“Coffee would be nice. Thank you.”

Before the journalist could even get to finish the sentence, Jessica had grabbed a white, spotless mug with clear-cut edges and was filling it with damping fresh, pre-made caffeine. It was mostly intimidating, but also some kind of impressive how everything Sophia owned seemed to reflect her persona. Where was William in all of this? Besides stuck, but smiling, in the limited amounts of picture frames around the home - at least the parts she’d seen.

“Here you go, darling. I have some tasks to do, but stay put and I’m sure they’ll be around in a minute. This household is a busy one.” Warmth immediately spread throughout her cold hands, imposed by London’s winter-weather, when the mug was placed in her hands. Already feeling much more comfortable around Jessica than in the company of anyone else in this perfect place, Noora almost felt like grabbing the old woman and keep her around. Of course she didn’t and watched her stroll away, out of sight.

Silence poured into the big room, growing bigger and bigger as time went by. This must’ve been what drowning felt like, she couldn’t help but think.

Minutes went by without anything happening, and the lack of stimulation started to feel inciting. She couldn’t just stand there and not _do anything_ ? After taking another sip of the warm beverage - being very careful with the beautiful mug - one foot moved in front of the other and took her on a stroll around the home. It took her to the next room, the living-room, and if the kitchen wasn’t absolutely impeccable, then the living room _definitely_ was. It was all white and beige: Everything from the wall-to-wall carpet to the lampshades. Having left her heels in the kitchen, it was clear that the carpet was the softest and most expensive she’d ever put her feet on. It could probably cure any kind of stress. A quite big frame, the biggest so far, caught her attention. Being careful to not touch, almost like at a museum, Noora slowly neared and inspected the picture.

Engagement picture. The goddess was flashing her perfect teeth mid-laugh as an almost simpering, Noora would say, William stood behind her and held her waist. This could easily have been from a magazine. That’s how perfect it looked. The blonde couldn’t help but wonder if they’d ever looked like that… Her and William. Perfect.

“Noora? What are you doing here?”

Brutally ripped out of her thoughts for the second time that day, Noora half-turned/half-jumped around with the speed of light. Even though it was indeed perfect, the mug couldn’t handle the movement, allowing the dark liquid spill over its edges and onto the white carpet. Upon perceiving this, Noora’s eyes immediately widened - more than ever before, so she thought - before she redirected them to the source of the voice. That’s when her eyes actually landed a new record.

“Shit,” she cursed, mostly at the coffee-stain on the carpet but also at William’s half-naked figure leaning onto the doorframe a couple of meters from her. Wearing only a confused frown and grey sweatpants, which by the way barely managed to cling onto the bottom of his bare torso, William crossed his arms in front of his chest. “No need to use that kind of language. Just tell me why you’re here?”

There was no sign of either amusement or hospitality on his face. She hated when he did that. She hated it when he’d use subtle humour like that, but then would say it like he hated everything and everyone. His voice was ice cold - just like his gaze.

“I’m here for a photoshoot with Sophia… For the article that I’m writing. Where is she?” Her voice was firm, keeping in mind that she was here for professional reasons and he had nothing on her. She was allowed to be here, and wouldn’t let him knock her out.

He rolled his eyes, obviously way too familiar with his girlfriend’s busy and at times messy schedule, as he easily nudged himself off the doorframe. “In Milan. She left this morning.”

Could he be anymore blunt? It was now Noora’s turn to roll her eyes. Two could play this game. He had no good reason to act hostile. “Okay, but… When will she be back? I’m only here for a couple of days.”

“Noora,” he spoke her name, firmly and perfectly like only he could. “I don’t know.”

It’s not like Noora hadn’t figured out already that Sophia was a busy woman, and that busy people often tended to be hard to keep track of, but it almost seemed like William didn’t… care. A frown, eyebrows meeting in the middle of her forehead, crept onto her face. “How come you don’t know when your fianceé will be home again? Isn’t that kind of crooked?”

A heavy sigh escaped William’s body, leaving Noora in no doubt of the fact that he was annoyed already. “You just walk right into my home without saying anything and you ruin my white carpet without even as much as apologising for it. Do you really think I need you to comment on my relationship with my fiancé?” His right hand ran through his bangs, his same stupid bangs, as he spoke and ended the sentence with a emotionless look in his eyes. Noora instantly remembered the incident and actually felt bad for ruining their carpet, but she couldn’t let him know. There was no way she’d let his cold, old self treat her like that again.

“Well excuse me for being welcomed inside by your housekeeper and occupying myself whilst I waited for your unorganised globetrotter-wife. There’s no need to attack me like that. But whatever, I’m out of here.”

Noora knew many things. She knew that she needed to await further instructions from her boss and that she shouldn’t just leave, but she also knew that she wasn’t going to accept this kind of childish behaviour from none-other than William. She turned on her heels, making her way towards the kitchen, when his next words made her freeze on the spot. “Do what you do best.”

The feeling of anger struck her like lightning from a clear, blue sky. How dare he? No, they’d never actually talked about it, but William wasn’t stupid. Deep down inside, he had to know exactly why she did what she did all those years ago. This behaviour was more than uncalled for. He had no right to bring this up. This wasn’t about them - there was no them. There was her, and then there was him and Sophia.

“Excuse me, what?”

Not backing down from his throne, not as much as a budge, William stood firmly in his spot a few meters from her and kept staring. How did she ever love someone like him, she wondered. She couldn’t even, neither did she want to, recognise this version of William Magnusson. “You just proved my point. You stain and then you run. That’s what you do, Noora.”

Her blood boiled at the injustice, tears building in her eyes. How could his selfish opinion matter so much to her? Even after so many years. It was all too stupid, all too much. She shook her head, pulling herself together. Just as she was about to speak, a sound interrupted her, causing her to check her phone. The text was from Frida, explaining the mess-up and apologising for it. If Noora could just get the sketches Sophia had left behind, she could be on the next plane out tomorrow morning. Adding another to her and William’s growing, already big, compilation of sighs, she momentarily put aside all her anger and stuck to her strong sense of professionalism.

“Look… We’re too old for this. I’m not here to open any wounds or bother anyone. Just look at this as life fucking with us. I’m not  even supposed to be in England right now. My boss called me this morning, telling me that she had arranged a last-minute photoshoot with Sophia. That’s the _only_ reason why I’m here, okay? It’s all one big misunderstanding. If I can just get my hands on the sketches that Sophia left behind for me, then I’ll be out of your hair.” She bit her lip, contemplating whether or not she should actually say the words waiting on the tip of her tongue.

“For good.”

Almost as if he was considering whether or not he should believe what she just said, William’s gaze shifted from cold to wondering - this also meant slightly softer, but still nowhere near loving. Baby steps. Another few seconds of silence drifted by, before he made up his turbulent mind and spoke up. “They’re probably in her work-room. Knock yourself out.”

“Thank you,” she sent him a small, careful smile, not wanting to end everything on such a dramatic tone. If someone had asked her what caused her to crack a joke at this very moment, she couldn’t have said why, but she seized the perhaps last moment with him. “... And please put on a shirt.”

He couldn’t see her smirk as she’d already turned back around. It was barely noticeable, but William indeed seemed surprised by her last comment. The cool tones in his brown eyes seemed to slowly melt away, and were replaced by neutral, if not warm, ones. Slowly he seemed to become more and more human again. The William she used to love was simply hiding beneath a ‘tip of the iceberg’-type of facade. Their love might have grown old and unrecognisable, but he certainly hadn’t.

 

Trying to put the unpleasant events behind her, Noora went straight to the workroom and started looking for the famous sketches. Sadly, it turned out to be a much more difficult task, disappointing her expectations. Multiple minutes later, whilst she was still searching, William walked into the room carrying a sweatshirt. The sound of him putting it on caught her attention, causing Noora to put a halt to her search and look at him. Not that she was staring at his still just as toned chest, but suddenly the hoodie's black fabric slid down to cover it and planted a big ‘PENETRATORS’ logo within her eyesight. “Have you found the sketches?” He asked.

“ _Herregud_ ,” she couldn’t help herself and let a a chuckle dance of her lips. His question was completely irrelevant right now. This was too good to be true. “Are you forreal?”

Confused, William looked down at his shirt to figure out what she referred to, before looking back at her.

“You still have your Penetrators-shirt?”

“Yeah, so what?” He shrugged, going to the opposite end of the room to look search for the sketches, even though he didn’t have to. Noora wondered if it was because he actually wanted to help or if he just wanted to avoid the hoodie-discussion.

“I’m sorry, but that thing will forever be the most sexist and ridiculous thing to exist. Why do you still have that?” She decided to let her clear, green eyes drift away from him, back to the pile of paper on Sophia’s desk that she was currently looking through. In the meantime, William looked through a briefcase lying on the workroom sofa. “Like you don’t still have yours…” his mumble was barely audible, miserably fighting against the sound of paper rattling from both ends of the room.

Noora picked up on it though - always one step ahead of him. “Never got one. I was never good enough.” The chuckle that escaped her lips after that was truly authentic, no dishonest or bitter feeling behind the comment. She had no problem with throwing jokes at him - as long as they didn’t fight. But while Noora had meant no harm with this comment, it seemed to catch William’s attention as his digging hands suddenly froze. It didn’t matter that she didn’t look at him, when she said that. It only made it easier for him to look at her and say the words coming following after.

Even though he didn’t consider the meaning behind them as he let them spill from his lips, he was sure of the fact that he meant every single syllable.

“You never got one because you were _too_ good, Noora.”

What was that supposed to mean? The words, paired with the sudden emotions and softness in his voice, took her off guard and caused her to stop her searching as well. Her head turned to look back at him. This wasn’t just nostalgia she suddenly felt. This was the familiar, long-lost feeling of the William she loved resurfacing. The William that complimented and respected her. Before she could get too caught up, Noora stopped her train of thoughts and shook her head. Unsure of what to say next, trying to not seem too surprised or affected by his words, she settled for a thankful smile before resuming her search.

Old feelings would never again be good feelings. She had her life worked out for her in Oslo, and he his with Sophia in London. Though neither dared or had the time to say so, they both wished the other the strongest kind of happiness - all hostile feelings pushed aside.

No one said anything after that, and after studying her for a bit and realising what he’d _actually_ just said, William turned back to the briefcase and continued his search as well. “Found it,” William pulled a thin pile of paper out of the briefcase, quickly studying it before showing it to the blonde. Another beautiful smile was sent from her end of the room to his, and surprisingly she got one, small but visible, back this time.

There was a first time for everything.


	8. William

Chapter 8 — William

 

William was about to extend his hand to give Noora the designs when she smiled and he noticed the thin crow's feet that had begun to form at her temples. He couldn't help but mirror the upturned pattern of her lips and when he did, he watched her mouth drop the same way it had the first time he'd called her beautiful. There was a time when he thought he'd spend the rest of his life making her smile like that.   
  
Then, more recently, he had succumbed to the idea that he'd never see that smile again. And day to day, it hadn't been anything he'd missed. Not outwardly at least.     
  
That was until the idea of having it again was dangling in front of him. Now, as his heart sped up and he felt his palms grow a little clammy, the thought of letting her walk out the door without another word for the second time didn't seem right.   
  
Noora gently reached out her hand and before he could stop himself, he was lost in appreciation for the way her wrist looked as it escaped the cuffed edge of her sleeve. She still only wore the one small silver band. Today it was on her index finger. He thought she might have worn it on her middle finger the other night at dinner, something he hated himself for subconsciously noticing.

In an attempt to draw his attention away from her, he looked down to the drawing in his hand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually looked at her work without her standing over my shoulder,” he said in an offhand way.

Noora admired them for herself from where she stood across from him. “She’s great, isn’t she?”

He nodded in agreement and flipped through, looking at each of them.

“Was it weird?”

William looked up at her briefly, a touch of confusion in his brows.

“Having us both there, at dinner. Knowing we were working together. Having me here, in your home…” She could have gone on, but thankfully, she didn’t.

William contemplated whether or not he wanted to go into detail on just how little work he’d actually gotten accomplished since he’d turned that corner to see her seated across from his fiancee, but admitting that would be admitting she still held some sort of power over him, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Thank you, by the way,” he said. “For going along with it. Pretending we didn’t know one another. It was just easier.”

“Of course.”

The light smile that had been painted over her lips as they conversed dropped ever so slightly, something he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t (at one time) been so attuned to reading her.

“I didn’t mean for that to sound the way it did.”

“It’s nothing,” she said. “It’s easier that way. Like you said. In case you’re worried, I made sure to stay away from mentioning too much detail about home. She shouldn’t have any idea that we ran in the same circle.”

It was touching to know that she’d been thinking of him through her conversation with Sophia; that she’d carried on in the same respect he’d forced her into. She could have said anything she wanted to. Could have altered Sophia’s entire perception of him, or at least tried.

Just as he was about to let her have the designs, a terrible thought flickered through him and as if he were driven by some sick need to punish himself, he acted on it. Pulling the sketches to his chest and following her outstretched hand up to her face, William gave her a playful grin.   
  
"Oh…" He let his tongue click against the back of his teeth as his mouth fell open. "You need these?" He waved the designs in front of him, keeping them just out of her reach.   
  
She held her head up so that her chin was angled a little too high and she pursed her lips so that they matched in stubborn defiance. It sent a surge of hot electricity coursing from his chest to his abdomen. That look was enough to undo him.   
  
The second he handed the designs over, there would be no reason for her to stay. She would return to Oslo to pick up her life there and he would remain in London, carrying on with his successful, albeit slightly less than satisfactory life. There was no reason for him to be dissatisfied with what he had, and yet, here he was, standing before her, a few fashion designs clung to his chest like they were the only thing in the world that mattered.   
  
"Of course I need those," Noora said, cutting the silence and drawing him out of his vortex of thought. "It's not as if I dropped by for a good chat and Fun Light."   
  
Noora had always found a way to push him. Sometimes it was good, other times not so much. The thing was, she made him want to be better, and that almost always required a lot of work on his end. This freedom to be a better version of himself had become an integral part of who he was, even if he had forgotten it somewhere along the way. He hated the way she knew the parts of him he'd spent his whole life trying to ignore. She made him feel vulnerable, like an open book. Alive to the point of breaking.   
  
It was a self-indulgent act, making her stay there, practically begging her to interact with him. And yet, he couldn't find the will to stop. He was a narcissist, but so was she. They loved themselves in the worst kind of way -- loved themselves to the point of driving everyone else out. He had an unfilled hole inside him that ached to know who she was now; a morose kind of desire to prove that he could move on without being forced into it. And so, even though he knew he was being childish, knew it was unfair, he continued to flirt.   
  
As he stood there in his jeans and Penetrator hoodie, his wet hair sending chills down his back, he watched her.   
  
"When do you leave?" he asked as he spun the designs into a loose tube and crossed his arms, making sure not to leave any creases on the delicate pages. He was playful-not cruel.   
  
She mirrored his stance. "Tomorrow…"   
  
"I take it you don't have plans for dinner." He waited a second, giving her only just enough time to reply before going forward. "Join me. We can go wherever you want."   
  
"No," Noora said, wiping at the air in front of her as if to erase the mere idea of it. "I don't think that's a good idea at all."   
  
"Why? It's just dinner," he said as he watched her.

“Why?” She scoffed and turned on her heel, burying her hands deep within her blonde hair. She looked at the walls, decorated with fabric and mood boards as she tried to spit out the plethora of reasons it was a terrible idea. “Why? Because it’s me and you. Because you’re engaged. Because I’m here for work, not as a social trip to see an old friend…”

“Friend?” The word came out like a challenge. “If that’s the case, then there shouldn’t be any problem with having a meal together. You have to eat anyway.”

Noora turned around to face him again. She let her hands fall to her side and fiddled with her fingers beside her pockets the way she always had. “Because I want to have dinner with you and I think that’s a terrible idea in and of itself.”

This was not what he expected to hear. Suddenly he wanted to be inside her head. He wanted to pick apart the innumerable thoughts he knew were pinging off the inside of her brain like neurons firing faster than one could process.

He wanted to pry into her life the same way she was his…but it wasn't that easy. What she was doing wasn't prying. It was her job. She wasn't here because she wanted to see him, it wasn't to satisfy some personal vendetta. She'd been sent to his doorstep. She was getting paid to stand there, to talk to him. Otherwise there was no way she would have come. Having dinner with him wasn’t what she’d traveled all that way for.

What started out as a sweeping judgement of her features, a search for approval or sincere indignation, turned into another thoughtful appreciation -- this time for the fact that she hadn't lost her morals, after all these years.

"You're still you," he added, his final attempt at swaying her. "You'll have no trouble keeping me in my place if you need to."  
  
Her mouth hung open and her eyes darted back and forth as they surveyed him for some kind of alternative meaning. She didn't say anything right away which he took to be a good sign.   
  
"Dinner in return for the designs," he offered. He knew he was pushing his luck but he couldn't let her leave so soon. "Here, take them now. That way you don't have to feel obligated."   
  
More delicately than he'd ever held anything, he let the pages unfurl in his hand and handed them over to her. For a beat, they were strung together by the ink and pencil drawings. Noora eyed him, surely a little distrustful of his intentions, but drawn in nonetheless. There was one thing for sure, and that was the fact that looking at her still made his stomach drop like an anvil off the Eiffel tower. William didn't think that would ever change.   
  
"Fucking hell, you're beautiful," he said quietly. It came out like an exhale. A thing cast forth out of necessity and without purpose. When he realized he said it out loud, he could have kicked himself.

For a second he thought she didn't hear him, but then she licked her lips, wetting them enough to speak, and scratched at one of her eyebrows, a nervous habit he knew was a way for her to make sure she didn’t have to make eye contact. She asked, "If I find that I'm free, where will you be?"  
  
He pushed his hair back out of his face and turned so that she couldn't see his face forming a smile. It was partially an act to save her the embarrassment, partially an act to save himself of the same.   
  
"Where are you staying?" he asked over his shoulder.   
  
"Novotel London Tower Bridge."   
  
“I'll be at the bar around eight. If you're free."   
  
What was sad, William realized, wasn't the fact that she was there. It was the fact that he wished she'd come on her own or that he'd gone to her sooner. What was sad was that he felt more excitement at the prospect that she'd even verbally considered potentially meeting him. In that moment, he realized that he didn't care if she showed up or not. It was enough that she had humored him. Though he wouldn't let her know so quickly, in the book of William Magnusson, Noora Saetre was set free of any previously beheld grudges. 

William helped Noora gather her things to leave and as he did, he forced himself to think of it as their last time being together. He couldn’t guarantee she’d meet him later that night, and after the last time, he didn’t want to end things on a bad note. He picked a stack of papers up off the coffee table in the living room and shuffled them against the table.

“It was good to see you.” He handed her the stack of papers. “I hope you have a safe trip back. I can call Chris to have him give you a ride from the airport. If you need it.”

Her hair parted just perfectly as she looked up to meet his gaze and take the stack he was handing her. “Thanks,” she said sweetly. “But I’ll be fine.”

Letting her leave was harder than he thought it would be. He hoped, more than he probably should have, that he’d get one more chance to say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh sorry for such a delay in updates today. Typically we are in better sync but today did not work out that way… Hopefully this doesn’t happen again in the future but I’m not going to promise anything haha. Hope it was worth the wait and that you enjoyed this chapter from Williams POV. Please drop us a comment or leave kudos if you are enjoying… hey, you can even comment if you’re not. (But we hope you are


	9. Noora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left comments or kudos, either here or on Tumblr! We have read them all, and it thrills us to see you enjoying what we’re created. Thanks for your continued support. Happy Friday! 
> 
> xoxo

Chapter 9 — Noora

Tip of her famous red lipstick pressed against the dip of her cupid’s bow, Noora suddenly halted in the act of applying it as she caught her own gaze in the big mirror. Pale green eyes, cold white skin and a button nose. It was all her, but she somehow couldn’t recognise herself in that very moment. Why was she even applying lipstick? She didn’t have to look good for him. It was just a friendly dinner and friends didn’t dress up for each other. Her body straightened back up, getting herself out of the bent over position that allowed her to get closer to the mirror and therefor apply the lipstick with much  more precision.

Green irises and black pupils travelled up and down her reflection in the mirror, checking herself out for a brief second. Adding a few inches to her height, Noora had put on her _professional_ heels and a full-length, black fitted dress. It just happened to be the last nice, but not work-related, clothing item she’d brought with her. Noora being Noora didn’t quite know how to feel about that fallout as she kept studying herself.

The neck definitely had a dip, but not deep enough to show _too much_ skin and make her vulnerable to London’s chilly weather - amongst other things. Growing more and more self-conscious with every second, she nervously started picking at the soft fabric, wondering if it actually went _too low._ It’s not like she had huge breasts nor a river deep cleavage, but… Little cleavage was cleavage and men were men.  She hated this. Being a woman with a very habitual and a particularly characteristic style, she never thought too much about what she wore. Her routine was to grab whatever from her closet and it’d usually just fit together perfectly. Why did she have to overthink it now? He shouldn’t be having that effect on her. Not now. Not ever.

Tearing apart the silence of her hotel room, her laptop suddenly rang, aggressively telling her that someone was trying to reach her through Skype. The blonde quickly put down the either way pending lipstick and rushed to answer the call. Eva popped up on her screen, an as always big smile on her face.

“Hey, girl.”

Noora smiled at the familiar and comforting sight of Eva on her screen, quickly turning up the volume before answering. “Hello there.”

“So how’s London?” Eva’s hair had been cut shoulder-length again, causing another wave of guilt wash over Noora as she immediately was reminded of how short her hair had been, when her and William had first fallen in love. It had grown longer since, barely reaching her breasts nowadays.

Luckily it could be excused as a glitch on Skype’s part, when Noora’s breath got stuck in her throat and she obviously hesitated to speak - the truth, at least. Eva was without a doubt her best friend, but something in Noora’s gut told her to bite her tongue and leave tonight’s plans out of the conversation. At least for now. She could very well explain her trip without mentioning that little part, right?

“Ehm- It’s fine. I’ve been running all over town and working, of course, but it’s really nice. I’m learning a lot of new things.” She bit her bottom lip, hoping her friend wouldn’t notice how she was obviously sticking to a very brief description. Eva seemed focused on her friend’s image, suspiciously squinting her brown eyes and leaning in closer to her screen. Oh shit, Noora thought.

“You seem very dressed up for someone who’s just running around town? You sure you’re just working?”

As if she didn’t already know that she was overdressed for the way too vague and superficial explanation, the blonde looked down to scan her own outfit, buying her a few seconds to think of something to say. “Oh, this?” She laughed, rather nervously, “That’s because I’m going to dinner with a team of journalists from the British ELLE. We’re meeting up in like... an hour.”

Eva’s frown immediately disappeared and grew into a bright smile, fun as always, and leaned in even closer to the webcam with a goofy smile on her lips. “Any hot, young journalists in this dinner party?”

As a by now very common reaction to many of the things Eva said, ever, Noora rolled her eyes. Of course she was going to take the conversation in just _that_ direction - anything else would be surprisingly unsettling. Not that the fact that they were now _actually_ heading in that direction was settling at all either.

“Not that I happen to care, but I don’t know. I haven’t met them yet. That’s the whole point of going to dinner with them.”

“Well,” Eva leaned back, getting rid of her sleazy facial expression and getting back to actual business. “If you don’t end up finding a hot British boy, then I have the _perfect_ date waiting for you here in Oslo. He’s so cute, Noora. You’re going to die. I met him at the emergency room. He’s 28, since I know you love your men a bit older, he’s a doctor and his name is Max.”

“Max?” Noora chuckled. “Is he a dog or-” Noora halted, leaving the word hanging, as she suddenly realised what Eva had just said. “The emergency room? Why were you there?”

Immediately, Eva let out a silly chuckle, almost knocking herself over. “Long story short: Sex in a way too small bathroom.”

“Stop right there. I’m good,” Noora held up a hand, signalling to her friend that her sexscapades wasn’t what she was in the mood for at the moment. She’d have plenty of time to hear about it once she’d be back in Oslo. Both women knew that Eva would make sure of that.

“Anyways… That wasn’t the point. The point was that you, Noora Amalie Sætre, have a date waiting for you here in Oslo.”

Noora trusted Eva with her life. Every little secret she’d ever had? Eva probably knew about it. There was nothing too big or too secret for their sisterhood, and all while Noora still held onto this fact, she couldn’t get herself to reveal the true picture of tonight’s dinner. Back in high school, when she’d first fallen for William, Eva was the first to know - whether Noora had actually wanted it or not. But something about tonight, this whole week and London felt different. It felt like one of those moments in life, rare pearls, where Noora would have to figure it out on her own. Eva could get to live yet another episode of _Gossip Girl_ over a cup of coffee once the blonde was back from her trip. For now it had to be real life as it was.

“Whatever you say, Eva,” Noora sighed, allowing her shoulders to drop along with the sound, as she found nothing else to say. It wouldn’t be the first time her friend had set her up on a strange, sudden blind date and probably not the last either. _Probably_.

“That’s right, girl. Whatever I say.”

Noora couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing Eva’s famous and always very ‘pleased with herself’-smile. Even bad webcam-quality and computer pixels couldn’t ruin that expression. After gracefully folding her fingers to the middle of her palm, forming a clenched fist, she let the sharp angles that formed her chin and jaw rest on it. “So what are you up to tonight?”

“Nothing too spectacular. I got myself a cute date from Tinder and he’s going to be here in like,” Noora could tell that her friend’s eyes temporarily wandered to the clock in the corner of her screen before coming back to where they were originally resting on her, “20 minutes.”

“An actual date?” Noora stated, smiling well-knowingly, head still resting on her hand. “Or sex-date?”

“You know what kind of date, girl,” as Eva cocked her eyebrows and smirked like the world’s biggest flirt, Noora couldn’t help but reflect on just how much she envied her friend sometimes. The fact that she could just meet up with whoever she wanted, talk and even sleep with them without giving it too many thoughts? It had to be some kind of art. In today’s society, where many people looked down upon it, Noora found it kind of awesome and freeing that some women had the power to please themselves like Eva did. You want sex? You go get sex. Why couldn’t she just be like that? Hell, Noora couldn’t even remember the last time she had or was even close to having sex. Maybe she needed someone to remind her of what she was missing out on. Maybe Max wasn’t a bad idea after all... But there was no way she was going to admit that out loud to Eva. Now it was her turn to look at the time, feeling a wave of shock go through her body when she did. “Shit. I have to go! But you go, girl. Just be careful, okay? Be safe.”

“Yeah, you too! Remember one of those plastic-things called condoms, okay? They still exist.”

Noora rolled her eyes, taking a last, quick glance at her friend’s smooth smirk before shutting down the laptop screen and heading back to her abandoned lipstick. Not because it was red, but in that very moment, it looked awfully dangerous and burning. Like if she put that on tonight, she’d be putting poison on her lips. For another few seconds, the blonde had an intense and burning stare down with the inanimate object, debating whether or not she should put it on. Hesitantly, she reached out for it as she told - at the very least tried to convince - herself of the fact that she was putting it on for her own sake. Because they were her lips and it was _her_ style.  No one was going to take that away from her - _especially_ not William Magnusson.

Ten minutes later, exactly as the the clock hit 8, Noora let her slender legs take her down the wide stairs that led to the hotel’s own bar. Right in that moment, she could’ve sworn that her legs were shaking and not because of the high heels. No, those were her work heels, which meant she’d worn them a million times before. Perhaps it was her body catching up with her head? Maybe she shouldn’t be here. Maybe some rulebook, somewhere, said that it was wrong to meet up with your ex - who also happened to now be engaged to someone else - and have dinner. Though she also couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t feel nervous. On the contrary. She felt what she could only describe as excitement, though she wouldn’t go as far as calling it butterflies in her stomach. Her and William were way past that stage.

Realising that she still needed to spot her dinner-date, she halted on the second to last step of the staircase, one hand elegantly placed on the wooden banister. Her lightly makeup-clad eyes quickly scanned the open room, trying to spot William amongst the many people of tonight’s dinner-service. Alas the man was one of a kind, he was nowhere to be seen. Momentarily leaving its spot on the banister, Noora withdrew her hand to check the small silver watch on her wrist. 2 minutes past 8. William was never late, not even a second, when they used to date. Maybe that was just back then. On the other hand, she didn’t believe that a woman as precise and perfect as Sophia would let that manner of his change. Maybe he’d simply realised the sketchiness of the situation and backed out.

“Noora?”

Just as she had begun to turn on her heels to flee like Cinderella at midnight, a very familiar voice stopped her from going any further and made her turn back around. It was indeed him and the young woman didn’t even have time to feel guilty, when tiny butterflies fluttered in her stomach as her eyes landed on him. He was standing in front of the stairs’ very last step, looking like he was made to stand there and wait for her. Their eyes met, her harmonious greens and blues meeting his dangerously contrasting brown ones. It reminded her of the black coffee he’d always drink in the morning, with or without her, depending on whether or not she was already up. Even though the last few weeks of their relationship had been rough, barely a stable relationship, the coffee in the morning had been one thing they could share without cruel words and disappointed glares…

Handsome as always, she couldn’t help but think as he stood there in his black tailored dress-pants, flawlessly white dress-shirt and his grey pea coat already off, resting on his left arm. It’s not Noora finding him handsome meant anything. Guys looked at girl all the time, thinking how beautiful and attractive they looked. Being the feminist that she is, Noora quickly made up her mind and decided that she had the same right - engaged ex or not.

“Hey,” she said. Feeling her shyness take over for a second, she looked down and pushed a lock of slightly curled hair behind her ear - the usual Noora-buffer. Upon looking up again, she quickly noticed how he was looking at her with that crooked, prudently admiring smile and always marginally mischievous eyes.

“That blush looks nice on you.”

Momentarily taken back by his reply, slightly embarrassed by the fact that she wasn’t wearing any blush - at least not the cosmetic kind - Noora quickly regained a straight posture, as well as her power and authority. His comment was clearly his way of trying to tease her a bit, letting her know that he was very aware of every single thing she did in his presence and under his effect. But this was not how it was going to go down. Not on her watch, not after everything they’d lived through - together and apart in the aftermath of their love.

“Thank you. I was going to say the same thing about your shirt, but with all those buttons done up, you look like you’re heading to court.”

Now it was William’s turn to look down at his feet, but he was only doing so to hide his white teeth as they dug into his bottom lips, trying to detain a smug smirk. She hadn’t lost her wit. As he was raising his head to face his counteraction, he playfully complied with her implicit wish and unbuttoned the very top button. Of course he caught her gaze, holding it, as to watch her burn, as he completed the task. Noora couldn’t deny the fact that she couldn’t physically look away no matter how much she wanted to. The pop of that button did something to her, and she didn’t like it.

“Better?” He popped his dark brows as to add a question mark to his lonely word. Two could play that game, she thought as she effortlessly let her left brow mirror his action, acting unimpressed though there was a tiny crook in her red lips that might’ve given her away.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

  
Walking right past him as if he didn’t exist, making sure that she was now in full control, she elegantly made her way down the last steps and made her way to the bar. At this William could only roll his eyes and follow her, secretly taking his time to catch up with her as to allow himself to admire the way the dress cascaded down her delicate body. Engaged ex or not, he couldn’t deny the clear fact that she was breathtaking. Though he quickly - just barely managed - to snap out of it as he caught up with her by the bar. Noora had felt his gaze from meters away, making her curls dance around her head as it in a quick snap turned to look at him. Her arms were already resting on the surface of the bar, making her take up more space and therefor look more in control than she actually felt. Every move, position and word counted when it came to her and William. Especially tonight would be all about playing it safe, but also showing him that he’d never have his famous effect on her _ever_ again.


	10. William

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter, y’all <3 I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think!
> 
> —btf

William was in awe of the way she looked in that dress. It was simple and tasteful and understated. Just like she was.

She sauntered up to the bar and he could have  _ sworn _ she was walking like she knew he was watching her. In an at-face-value kind of way, that was an obvious statement, he was behind her and they were walking in the same direction, so it was only natural for his eyes to fall on her, but the  _ way _ she carried herself…it was a new kind of confidence that he wasn’t used to seeing on her. She was in charge. She was setting the pace. She was letting him know that she would be the one to call the shots.

It suited her, and quite frankly, he found it hot.

When they finally reached the bar and she let her arms rest gently atop its surface, the angles of her long elbows against the wood top made him think of other angles that he hadn’t considered in a long time. He racked his brain for something to say, not really  _ wanting  _ to stand there and look as dumbfounded as he felt.

“Let me get us something to drink,” he said as he squared up beside her. “Sparkling water?”

She gave him a soft smile but her eyes held a certain look of condescension. “I think this whole ordeal calls for something a little more than that,” she said.

“You mean…you’re going to drink?”

“I don’t think I can make it through this night without drinking  _ something _ at least a little stronger than water.”

William nodded and raised his hand to grab the attention of the bartender then proceeded to order two glasses of white wine.

“This should be pretty light,” he said as he handed her one of the glasses. He held his up, offering a toast. “To unexpected encounters and forgetting about old grievances.”

Noora gave a light chuckle and raised her own glass to meet his before taking a rather generous sip. William hoped that the toast would set things off on a lighter note—calling their past out right off the bat was perhaps a bold way of addressing the elephant in the room, but he didn’t want to have it sitting on his chest all night. Nor did he want her to feel like she needed to be the one to address it.

“This is good,” she said, motioning to the drink her hand. He noticed the way she held it close and pointedly looked anywhere but directly at him. Already she had a pink tinge to her cheeks and he wondered whether or not she actually drank on a regular basis now or if it was solely because of her present company.

“Don’t feel like you have to drink that too quickly,” he said. “Or at all, if you change your mind and don’t want it. I know how it used to make you feel.”

 

As they stood at the bar waiting for their table to clear, Noora filled him in on everything that had been happening back at home. It was good to hear her talking about her friends and her career, and to learn that she’d been able to move on successfully. When they’d first split up, he had spent a lot of time worrying about her…about whether or not she’d dipped back into one of her anxious spells, about whether or not Chris was going to give her a hard time. He knew from his own individual conversations with his best friend that he was still very involved with Eva, and that seemed to indicate that he and Noora crossed paths more often than not. Hearing Noora speak fondly of his friend gave him hope that she didn’t hold on to any grudges. At least not anymore. Or, at least she didn’t let those grudges extend to people who weren’t involved in the situation.

By the time their table was ready, they’d both finished their glasses and William had ordered a second round for them to have with dinner.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. Her eyes were glistening from the drink and her cheeks had only gotten brighter in color. He had to admit, even he was feeling a little bit of a buzz…but whether it was from the drinks or the feeling of adrenaline coursing through him, he couldn’t be sure.

“I’ll be fine once I have some food in me,” she said. She folded her hands in front of her, propping her elbows atop the table and letting her arms fill the space between them. She’d left her hair down and he admired the length, not for the first time.

“Your hair looks good that length,” he said. It was longer than it had been when they’d split. “Are you letting it grow out?”

She self-consciously brushed a hand through the curl that had fallen over her face when they’d taken their seats, and with the motion came an accompanying smile, putting her vibrantly white teeth on display. Her red lipstick always made them look extra bright. As he appreciated every aspect of her and how strikingly beautiful she was all made up, he found himself longing to see the other side of her. The Noora who was freshly waking from a sleep filled night, stretching out along the bed, pulling the comforter up around her shoulders, her hair a little askew, her lips natural, parted and asking to be made swollen.

“William?”

Hearing his own name brought him out of the trance-like state he’d entered into.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was just…thinking.”

Her left eyebrow quirked questioningly, the way it always did, and he knew she didn’t believe him. Either way, she was gracious and didn’t press for details.

“Well, I was just saying…I’m very pleasantly surprised to have run into you. Which isn’t something I would have expected to say had the thought that I  _ might _ run into you even crossed my mind when I set out from Oslo.”

 

William was desperate not to get lost in his own thoughts again, so he let her lead the conversation and exchanged plenty in return. Their food arrived, and it was more delicious than anything William had ever tasted before. By the look that passed over Noora’s face (her eyes closing, her raised hand lingering just a moment before letting her fork drop back to her plate) she was in happy agreement.

“This has been…far better than I ever could have imagined,” Noora said as William signed the bill. She reached out and placed her hand over his, rubbing her thumb over the top of his hand gently. Goose bumps started to pop up over his skin and he was glad to be wearing a long-sleeved shirt.

“I’m glad we ran into each other,” he said.

What he didn’t say was: I’m just sorry it wasn’t under different circumstances.

Noora turned his hand so that his palm was facing the ceiling and ran her finger down the middle until her fingers were tracing the outline of his. Her gaze was locked on their connected hands while his was locked on her.

“I don’t ever want it to end,” she whispered.

“Then let’s let it last a little longer,” he said, his voice holding just as much reverence for the moment as hers.

They let their feet carry them out of the hotel and down the road for a bit, the night taking them on a tour of everything that might have been if things had panned out differently. When the wind picked up and the cool air settled on their shoulders, William took of his jacket and draped it over Noora’s shoulders. She pulled it in and settled into its warm embrace.

After they’d walked for what seemed like a lifetime and no time at all, they came upon a bistro and dipped in for a coffee. There were string lights hung along the back patio, perfectly framing the stars, and a string quartet was playing harmoniously in the corner. William and Noora found seats at a small table and ordered two Americanos. It seemed like the night would last forever, and yet they each knew that reality would return soon enough, and they’d have to go their separate ways.

Noora’s hand had found a home away from home alongside William’s. Since leaving the hotel, she’d let it dangle dangerously close to his, and every time they had to squeeze closer together to allow for room on the sidewalk, he’d let his own dart out to trace the backs of her fingers. It was familiar in a way he couldn’t explain. When they’d seated under the string lights, he’d taken the liberty of angling his chair so that he was beside her, rather than across, and though they still hadn’t indulged in the pleasantries of touch, the energy between them was catching.

The quartet announced that they’d play one final song. The bartender gave the final call, and Noora and William knew then that their night, as beautiful as it had turned out to be, was coming to an end.

Then, among the setting darkness, beneath a blanket of stars came a melody neither of them could have expected. Before the first few chords could come to an end, Noora was laughing—though there was more sadness to her cadence than anything else—and she leaned into William’s side, letter her head land on his shoulder.

“Can you believe it? Of all the songs,” she said.

William had been thinking very nearly the same exact thing. What were the odds, that tonight, of all nights, and here, of all the bistros in London, that this string quartet would be playing the very song Noora had played for him the first night he’d realized he loved her? Surely it was no mere element of chance.

Gently pulling his shoulder out from under her, he stood and offered her his hand.

“May I?” he asked.

She took his hand in hers without a moment’s hesitation. Inwardly, she knew she was giving in to far too much—this was crossing a line, a line she’d been dangerously tiptoeing around all night. But as she let him lead her out onto the dance floor, as he pulled her in close and let his hand fall to her waist, she couldn’t imagine doing anything else in that moment.

William held onto her like she was his life source. His fingers were nimble against her, trailing along the hem of her dress, appreciating where it clung to her waist, her back…he kept himself in a friendly hemisphere, though it was all he could not to indulge in traveling just a little further south.

By the time the song ended, he couldn’t believe he would have to let her leave.

They seated again, knowing that they couldn’t stay much longer. Aside from the late hour, the restaurant would be closing, and they’d be getting kicked out anyway. He wanted to say something to her, but he couldn’t find the words. The song’s lyrics seemed almost ironic.

_ Saying ‘I love you’ is not the words I want to hear from you. _

He remembered every inch of that night. He’d felt like an idiot, though he didn’t think she had noticed.

_ It’s not that I want you, not to say, but if you only knew…how easy it would be to show me how you feel. More than words is all you have to do to make it real, then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me, ‘cause I’d already know. _

It was precisely what he had not done in the end. He’d neglected showing her that she meant anything to him at all—the words he’d exchanged in haste as he left in the morning and returned, already half asleep and stumbling into bed, had been empty and devoid of any sincerity.

He was a lot of things, and often ‘asshole; was at the top of the list, but devoid of emotion was not one of them.

_ What would you do if my heart was torn in two? More than words to show you feel that your love for me is real. What would you say if I took those words away? Then you couldn’t make things new…just by saying ‘I love you’. _

Before he had the chance to say anything, a waiter appeared before them, two glasses of champagne on his tray.

“I’m sorry,” Noora said, somewhat awkwardly exchanging an equally as confused look with William. “We didn’t order these.”

“Of course,” the waiter clarified. Nonetheless, he continued to place the glasses in front of them. “They are compliments of the couple toward the front. They’re celebrating their fiftieth anniversary and said all night you have reminded them of what it was like to be young and in love.” The waiter looked up and toward the front, near the bar, where an older couple gave them a small wave and two very kind smiles. “They simply wanted to say thank you.”

When the waiter left, William and Noora traded their confused expressions for wide eyed looks, each of them trying not to laugh.

“Well,” William said, chancing a look over his shoulder at the couple. “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Noora took her own and finally gave in to the all-encompassing smile that had been stealing its way into her heart all night. Gone was any uncertainty. Gone was any doubt, any self-monitoring reminder to mind her morals. She reached out and took hold of the glass, letting it touch ever so gently along the side of William’s, and held his gaze as she reveled in the sensation of the bubbly liquid tickling its way across her tongue.

When they were standing outside the hotel elevators, waiting for one of the three sets of doors to light up and open, that feeling had only grown. Call it alcohol. Call it inebriation. Call it lust.

Call it whatever you like.

But as William stepped an inch closer and pushed that same strand of hair out of Noora’s face, he let himself stay there a moment too long. She didn’t protest the invasion of her personal space. If anything, she leaned into him. She’d already returned his coat, but the coolness of the night had traveled in with them, and the warmth radiating off his chest was drawing her in. That and the smell of his cologne. She was distantly aware of the fact that it was the one she’d bought him for his birthday, but she didn’t take the time to analyze what that might mean.

Behind them, there was a ding signaling that her elevator had arrived and that their night had finally met its denouement.

Gently, like he might break her if he didn’t touch her just right, he brought his thumb up to her face and wiped away the lipstick from her bottom lip. Her eyes remained locked with his, but he could have sworn he saw something cross her gaze for the tiniest of instants when his skin first touched hers. Daring to go a bit further, he cupped that hand around her cheek, letting his fingers dive into her hair and rest along the nape of her neck as he brought his other hand up and raked his other thumb along her top lip.

This time he was sure he felt her breath hitch.

They were close enough now that he could feel it in her chest.

He gave into the need to feel her there one last time. To taste the natural quintessence of her lips against his. With porcelain perfection, he held onto her waist with his other hand and brought her into him, filling that last fraction of space that they’d been dancing around all night. She tasted better than he remembered. Better than he could have ever dreamed.

Noora’s hands flew to the sides of his face and he felt that little ring along her index finger as it raked over his cheek bone. She let them fall languidly to his shoulders then drape around the back of his neck.

The doors of the elevator to his right—her left—slid open. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Fighting against every urge of desire in his body, he tore himself away and gave her the distance to leave.

What he hadn’t expected was for her to keep a hold of his hand, to draw him back into her.  

She leaned away only long enough to watch her step as they entered into the elevator. Noora locked her eyes with William’s and when she was not met with any wavering certainty, she reached behind her and pressed her palm to the number eight before returning it to his chest.

She let her lips find their way back to his. She wasn’t kissing him yet, but he could feel her attention in other places: in the way her pulse was starting to speed up beneath her ribs, in the way her breath was coming out too hot, uneven.

Silently, she held her lips there before his and waited for him to complete the distance. This time, as William kissed her, there was nothing gentle about it. There was urgency. There was an aching need to be what they’d always been best: together. 


	11. Noora

Chapter 11 — Noora

Noora couldn’t explain whether the tingling sensation in her body was caused by the uncommon fact that there was alcohol running through her veins, or the - also uncommon -  fact that William had her pressed up against the elevator’s back wall. Their hungry, already slightly marked lips hadn’t left each other since the elevator doors had closed behind them, and something was telling her that they weren’t about to either. Feeling weakened from the fervent captivity William had her in, whilst also not being used to the influence of alcohol, Noora felt her body slowly start to slide down the glistening, polished wall. Yet before she could slide too far down and away from him, he quickly removed his hands from the tight grip on her hips in order to grab her hands at the back of his own neck, where they were for holding on for dear life. Fitting perfectly, their fingers intertwined and briefly drew Noora out of her heated haze. Her eyes opened just slightly, for the first time in a while, to look at him and make sure that this, he, was indeed real. How come his fingers in hers could feel so right yet so wrong at the same time? 

Her brain slowly started to turn human again, battling the alcohol and trying to ignore the wildfire and animalistic lust within her entire body. But before the pathos and guilt - that had until now been pushed aside - could win her over and draw them apart, a feral and quick move of William’s kept them under their own spell: He removed their interlocked hands from the back of his neck and slammed them into the wall above Noora’s blonde and now messy hair. He was going to hold her up for the whole ride if he had to. That’s all it took for Noora’s brain to switch back to survival mode, and right now she needed him to survive. 

“I don’t think I can--” the plaint had barely left her lips, before he shut her up by gently biting into her bottom lip, followed by a soothing peck. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” he replied, gently angling his head to create a chain of kisses down the corner of her well-defined jaw, thinking that maybe he came on too strong and she regretted. 

Afraid of what she’d just said - or at least had tried to say - had scared him off, making him think that he should stop, Noora quickly managed to catch enough air to continue. 

“It’s,” she gasped in reply to the last peck placed to the skin of her neck, giving herself a brief moment to make out the rest of the phrase. “I just don’t know for how long I can keep standing.” It sounded a lot less stupid in her head, causing her to let out a euphoric and hazy chuckle as soon as she’d said it out loud. She’d never actually been high before, but in that very moment, Noora was almost sure that this was what it felt like. 

“Guess we’re not doing it in here then,” if William hadn’t chuckled at that very moment, tickling her neck, Noora would’ve been absolutely persuaded of the fact that those were actually his intentions. No way she was going to do it in an elevator though. She had standards and there was no way she was going to settle for less than a bed. 

To both her disappointment and delight, not being able to decide on where she enjoyed it the most, William’s teeth and lips let go of her now bruised neck and wandered back to her lips. A loud  _ ding _ interrupted the two, automatically causing William to let go of his lover’s hostage hands and grabbing her ass instead. 

“Room number?” he clumsily mumbled, not being able to stop nor wanting to tear himself away from her. He swiftly picked her up like she weighed nothing. Immediately understanding what he was doing, Noora let him and wrapped herself around him; her legs around his torso, arms around his neck and hands in his hair. There was no way he could actually see where they were going at this point. All he saw was her, if anything at all. 

“306,” she breathed out, suddenly feeling impatient, as he walked out of the elevator’s temporary privacy. “Go,” her sentence was swallowed midway by William’s lips, before she could break away for another second to finish it, “left.” 

All whilst holding onto her petite body for dear life, William managed to navigate down the dark hall until he suddenly suspected the golden numbers ‘306’ on a wooden door. Figuring that she needed to find her key, he gently put her down, but quickly forgot about the purpose of this and pushed her up against the hard surface. There was no way he could help it. Her little surprised squirm was like sweet music to his ears, only driving him even more insane with every passing second, abominating the interference that the key-card caused. By now it felt like the kiss had lasted for hours, like they’d never even broken apart. Although no human could possibly kiss for that long without coming up for air, she thought to herself as she gently forced the palms of her hands into his firm chest. 

“I need my key,” she breathed against his jaw, whereto her lips had managed to escape, before gently kissing it. Looking down to assist her hands in rummaging through her handbag, Noora didn’t realise that this position kept William from kissing her and therefore also feeling like a tied up animal; he was only growing more hungry with each second. 

As soon as she found it, William snatched it from her hand, unlocked the door and pushed them both inside with a quick and heavy reboot of their previous kiss. And without her even noticing, he’d already pushed the straps of her dress off her shoulders, pushing the rest of it down past her breasts, waist and lastly hips in an almost angry manner. The rest was history and it ended up on the floor. Mastering the same skills as William - to his surprise but not enough to draw his attention away from her lips - Noora quickly (or so it seemed in the heat of the moment) unbuttoned the endless amounts of buttons of his white shirt. Pushing it off and letting it crumble to the ground went by as smoothly as the latter. His coat had already left them by the door. Within milliseconds, the bed appeared behind them and even though they were both eyes closed and deep into the delirium of the kiss, it was like they could feel its presence behind them. It didn’t take much, simply the softest nudge of William’s finger tips and Noora had fallen back onto the endless space of the soft, queensized bed. 

For a second, it seemed to William that all he was meant to do in that very moment was to soak in the visuals of her body and beauty as she lay there sprawled out like Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. The body posture could be compared, but Noora herself… Nothing could compare. Not even some of the world’s oldest and most prestigious art. Quickly taking in her dearly missed, yet familiar underwear-clad body, her pale, soft-looking skin, he continued upwards to her face. Her blonde, curly locks spread out in wild, foamy waves around her head, creating an aura-like effect, as if she was the savior. Maybe she was? Her lips were already red, raw, bitten and smudged. Yet he’d never come to regret marking them as his - not even sober. Eyes…Of course they stood out to him as they almost glowed in the dark though they were only half opened, relaxed and buzzed from his effect on her. She would never be able to enter William Magnusson’s head, but Noora knew what he was thinking as she lied there like a wounded lamb waiting for the final attack. Had she not been under the influence of multiple euphoriants, patience wouldn’t have been a problem. But right then, watching him just stand there, bare torso, messy hair and swollen lips: It was not sufficient. 

“Didn’t your mom ever tell you that’s it’s rude to stare?” surprising herself more than anyone else, Noora instantly took a liking to this explicitly bold side of herself - especially when she saw the stunned look on William’s face. It almost felt as if she was observing herself, an out of body experience, as she climbed to stand on her knees, implicitly challenging the young man’s height and therefore supremacy. Slowly and tauntingly, she placed her hands on his firm chest and slid them upwards towards the gape of his neck. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t immensely enjoy it. Being completely lost in greed, she’d failed to notice that William’s astonishment had worn off and evolved into a counter-attack. 

“No, but she also never complimented my drawings so,” his smug smirk, knowing he indeed had the winning comeback, provoked her immensely and pushed her over the edge.

“Shut up,” she closed the little, remaining gap between them, crashing their lips together. Leaving behind the hair at the gape of his neck, her fingers danced away and instead reached for his belt. With ease, she unbuckled it as her lips moved away from his lips, down his neck then chest. Her glowing eyes never left his. They’d talked enough for tonight. 

Cool yet warm, wrapped up yet bare. 

Even though she’d just barely gained consciousness, her body awake but her brain trailing behind, Noora was definitely feeling a lot of things already. She was staring into the back of her closed eyelids, feeling specially exhausted and desperately trying to fall back asleep - only to fail. A loud sigh, signalling her frustration over the fact that she’d failed to draw the curtains last night, oozed into the soft cotton-cover of her pillow. She was lying on her side, arms bent at the elbow, hands folded under the pillow as if she was praying. 

She usually slept on her back. Always.

Her eyes shot wide open. It all suddenly hit her: the cool sensation she was feeling was caused by the fact that she was very naked, whilst the very contrast heat that radiated onto her back came from a body - not her own. Like a tsunami crashing to a shore, memories from last night flooded her mind with immense speed and heavy force. 

Her, William, bar, drinks restaurant, more drinks, food, streets, dancing, darkness, longing gazes, wandering hands, lust, bodies. As all of this - at once - crashed through her mind, her eyes landed on a black item on the floor by the bed. 

“Shit,” she breathed out, nervously eyeing her bra as her heart picked up pace, faster than ever before  and almost burst through her chest. Fast as lighting, upon feeling the friction that only skin against skin could create, her eyes shot down to see William’s toned arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He wasn’t supposed to do that - at least not with her. He was  _ engaged _ . He was about to become someone’s  _ husband _ . Everything washed over her so brutally, making her feel sick and shaken to the core. Nausea, possibly throwing up the guilt, was building up with every second. There was no excuse. She was now ‘ _ the other woman _ ’ in William and Sophia’s otherwise flawless relationship.

A train of all too familiar mechanisms took over, completely taking control of her mind and body. It forced her to slip out of his immensely wrong yet all too sentimental hold of her. After retrieving her clothes - all three pieces - from around the room, she quickly shot a glance at him. He was still fast asleep; to her relief. Even though she couldn’t deny that a tiny part of her wanted him to wake up and stop her. 

No. She needed to leave - now!

Adding to her “luck”, she also noticed and remembered that she’d packed up all of her belongings the day before. She remembered thinking yesterday that no matter how dinner with William went -  though this specific hadn’t been a scenario that she’d considered - she was going to leave this early morning. After quickly slipping into yesterday’s dress, throwing a jumper over it to dress it down and keep her warm, she put on her heels and fled the crime scene. 

No way her heart had ever beaten with this kind of intensity before, she thought as she threw one last guilty glance over her shoulder at the harmonic sight that was William’s sleeping silhouette. Not liking it, but not being able to fight it, she had to admit to herself that the sight felt like home: The slightly dimmed room was drenched in the orange light coming from the rising sun that gave William’s skin a warm and welcoming glow. It didn’t take much for her to realise that she wanted nothing more than stay in his arms, soak up the morning’s calmness and kiss his rosy lips till he woke up. Then they’d lie in bed, kiss and repeat last night’s faux pas till they grew way too hungry. They’d order room service. He’d have his coffee black, her with milk and she wouldn’t mind kissing him even though his breath would grow an strong and aromatic aftertaste.

That would be wrong though. All of it. It was too good to be real, and she knew that there was no way that it could actually happen anywhere else but in her mind. Yet Noora couldn’t believe that she was about to desert him for the second time. How come they were bound to end up like this every time? Perhaps they just weren’t meant to be. She’d have to go back to Oslo and make sure she never ran into him  _ ever _ again. If they were lucky enough, they could both forget about this and William could continue his path into a perfect future with Sophia. She wouldn’t  have to know about anything _ \- past or present. _

Next thing she knew, the hotel room and William’s warm chest pressed against her naked back, was replaced by a lonely, tiny airplane window. A cold faux-leather seat had now taken William’s place, making sure her back was cold . The sun had risen completely and was shining on her face as she stared into the white void of fluffy clouds - definitely not reflecting her mood. Her mind was still buzzing. 

Earlier, in the heat of the moment, as she’d power walked like never before through the airport towards her gate, she’d called Eva in pure desperation. There was no way - even Noora - could keep all of this to herself. The guilt, burden mixed with the heartbreak was eating her alive already, almost physically bringing her to her knees in the middle of the crowded space. As expected, her friend had been even more shocked than Noora herself - if possible - and hadn’t believed her at first. Although she eventually came around when her blonde friend had kept repeating the words: 

_ “I’ve ruined his life. Again.” _

But could Noora really blame Eva for freaking out? For not believing her at first? For once again mentioning how this sounded like yet another episode that damned Gossip Girl show? Everyone around Noora always thought so highly of her and her morals - friends, family, co-workers, clients - and especially when it came to men and relationships. They always came to her for advice, trusting her open mind and kind heart yet realistic perspective on love. Noora was a beautiful, independent and a self-respecting woman that everyone either wanted or wanted to be. Yet she didn’t let it get to her head, forever humble, and nothing could throw her off her path. No one, no man, not even William Magnusson could do anything to lure her into simmering chaos and make her take a bite out of a poisoned apple. 

No way Noora Amalie Saetre could be a homewrecker. 

So they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for being patient with us. Being on opposite sides of the world makes posting at the same time a challenge, but somehow we find a way. 
> 
> Hope it was everything you’ve been waiting for. I thought Emilie did a marvelous job of painting them <3


	12. William

The sound of conversation carried down the hallway, drawing William out of sleep and into the bright rays of the early morning sun. Slowly, he opened his eyes and came face-to-face with the white pillow beneath him. Still groggy with sleep, he rolled over and tried to remember where he was. It took him a moment to place his location and the reason he wasn’t waking up in his own bed.    
  
Just as his eyes came to fall on the swatch of empty space beside him, memories of the previous night flooded his mind. A flash of blonde hair and red lipstick, the undeniable feeling of her as they’d fallen into bed… The scent of her was still lingering in the air, a sweet mustiness that he wouldn’t be able to forget, no matter how much time they spent apart. William raised a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing himself to wake up and think. As he brought his hand away, he focused on the tip of his thumb, still tinged pink from where he’d wiped at her lips before they’d disappeared into the confines of the elevator. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so full of…   
  
What was it exactly? Lust? Passion? Those words felt trite. It was something more akin to need, but in the literal sense. The need to have her wasn’t based off the fact that they’d been drunk and lost in the moment, and it wasn’t based of the fact that he was about to marry someone else. The need to be with her was like the need to drink water. If he didn’t, he would die.    
  
We have to be together, he thought, remembering back to something she’d once told him, during what now seemed like a much simpler time, when she’d been trying to convince him to give them another chance.   
  
“Fuck,” he mumbled aloud to no one in particular. He was growing conflicted, torn between wanting to push the whole affair aside (that word tasted bitter on this tongue and he refused to say it out loud) and wanting to know what Noora was thinking.    
  
He hesitantly pushed the comforter back and sat up, looking around the room for any sign that Noora was still there. In his heart, he knew the answer. How had he let this happen? How had he let her become the other woman? They’d always had their differences, but she deserved so much more than this. Especially from him.    
  
The voices outside the room faded and an eerie silence settled in its absence. It was evident that he was alone in the room, and the lack of luggage or any of Noora’s personal belongings made it clear that she had no intention of returning. As he surveyed the room, he noted the fact that his clothes were neatly hanging over the back of a chair rather than strewn about the floor where he distantly remembered leaving them in his haste to be closer to her. In a childish way, or perhaps a humbling way, his cheeks tinged with the softness of embarrassment. It was a small gesture. A distant and gentle goodbye. A reminder of when they’d lived together…when they’d been together…when he was certain she was all he’d ever need in the entire world.    
  
Somewhere along the way, he’d lost sight of that, and it stung now to see their whole relationship come down to this: a few garments discarded in haste and then slung with perfect consideration over the back of a hotel chair.    
  
He pushed his hand through his hair, leveling that flop of bangs that so often obstructed his sight, and let out a low breath before forcing himself to stand.    
  
Not knowing what else to do aside from leave the scene of the crime, William dressed himself, shamefully feeling like garbage. Noora had a way of doing that, regardless of whether or not she tried to. She was skilled in making him see his own faults. And it wasn’t because she sought out to do it, or took pleasure in making him feel badly, but because she had a way of forcing him to see the world in a different kind of light. She held him to a higher standard and when he fell, it left a bigger bruise.    
  
The more he thought of her, the more he was forced to consider the person he should have been thinking about. Sophia. The mere thought of her was enough to make his stomach churn. He wanted to get out of the hotel, but he didn’t want to go home for fear that she would be there and he would have to somehow decide what he was going to do about the whole situation.    
  
William wanted to be disgusted with himself, because cheating on his fiancée was a heinous act.    
But being disgusted with himself seemed to imply that he regretted sleeping with Noora…and if there was one thing he was certain of, it was the fact that he most certainly did not regret that.    
Which circled him right back around to feeling like he should be disgusted with his actions.    
  
The vortex of confusion within him was starting to give him a headache, and so, instead of staying in the room any longer than necessary, William opened the door of the hotel room and let himself into the hallways, keeping his head down as he passed other guests and doing his best to act as if he didn’t have something to hide.    
  
When the elevator chimed, and the doors were sent receding into the walls, opening up to the lobby and front desk, William had a nagging thought. He was almost certain that Noora had fled London for Oslo again—the familiarity of the whole situation was compelling in convincing him that if she’d done it once, she could easily do it again. But on the off chance…he had to be sure.    
  
Instead of going toward the glass doors that would lead him onto the street and into the freedom of not having to look back, he instead walked toward the desk. A woman sat behind a computer, greeting him with a tight-lipped smile and firm stare.    
  
“Good morning, sir,” she said as he approached. “What might I be able to do for you today?”   
  
“Yes, hi,” he started. “I was wondering…” He’d approached with assurance, but upon opening his mouth to speak, he realized he wasn’t entirely sure what it was he wanted to ask. “A friend of mine was staying in room 306 and I was supposed to meet her this morning, but she wasn’t answering her door…I was wondering if you’d be able to tell me whether or not she checked out?”   
  
She gave him a hesitant look. “I can’t disclose personal information about our guests, but…I can probably tell you whether or not I have a current booking for that room. Just a moment, let me look.”   
  
He stood awkward before the desk, hoping he wasn’t about to have the police called on him for being interrogative about the hotel’s guests. The woman clicked away at her keyboard, but the longer it took, the more uncomfortable he became. Just as he was about to tell her ‘thank, but never mind,’ she looked up from her screen and gave him a more genuine smile.    
  
“Ah, yes,” she said. A certain look crossed her face like she knew something he didn’t. It made William’s insides crawl and he could feel his face tingeing pink again. “Miss. Sætre checked out early this morning, but she mentioned you were still in the room.”    
  
William tapped the desk a few times as he tried to think of something to say, but no words that could save him from the embarrassment he was feeling would come to mind, so rather than saying anything else that would possibly dig him deeper into the mess he’d already created, he thanked the attendant and left for home.    
  
He was overwhelmed with relief when he walked in the door to find that no one was home. The last thing he needed was for Sophia to question where he was. He didn’t have a good answer yet; didn’t have his thoughts in order.    
  
William shut the door behind him and threw his keys and wallet onto the counter. Before he placed his phone beside the pile of belongings, he checked his messages and missed calls. Checked his emails. Checking Instagram for a direct message felt desperate, but he did so anyway. He checked his text messages one last time before finally placing the phone face down on the counter and walking over to get a glass of water. He didn’t know what he wanted. What would she even say if she’d left a voicemail or sent a text? What did he want her to say? If she hadn’t reached out to him when they were still together, she sure as hell wasn’t going to reach out to him after a one-night stand when he was engaged to someone else.    
  
As he leaned against the counter and drank from his glass, he took in the room before him and considered the life he’d built for himself after Noora.   
  
Even if he didn’t acknowledge it outwardly to anyone else, that was how he’d taken to thinking of things: Life Before Noora, Life with Noora, and Life After Noora.    
  
When his phone rang, his heart jumped into his throat and he felt his blood pulse from the palms of his hands up through his wrists and into his arms, making them feel heavy as he reached out and flipped the device over.    
  
Instead of Noora’s face, it was Chris’. William felt himself deflate but answered the phone nonetheless.   
  
“Hello?” He sat the empty glass in the basin of the sink and walked further into the apartment.    
  
“Ooof! There he is!” Chris said from the other end of the phone. “Just the man I was looking for!”    
  
“What’s up?” William said, sounding preoccupied, though it had nothing to do with talking to Chris.    
  
“I had a notification for one of those stupide Timehop pictures on Facebook and you were in it. Just thought I’d call and see how you were doing.”   
  
The gesture was kind but struck William as very un-Chris-like. “Are you getting soft on me?”    
  
“No!” Chris laughed, and William relaxed a little at the sound. Distantly he heard a woman’s voice in the background mumble something. It wasn’t exactly as if she’d said it to Chris, but they were definitely near enough that William thought she might have been sitting next to him in bed.     
  
“Is there a girl with you?” William asked. “And you’re calling me about an old picture?”   
  
Chris brushed him off, “It’s just Eva,” he said. “She’s been on the phone with…” his voice drifted off and he seemed to change gears. “You know what it, doesn’t matter. What have you been up to?”   
  
“I didn’t realize you two had gotten back together,” William said. “That’s nice.”   
  
“Sounds like you’re the one getting soft. It’s just sex anyway. She still won’t date me. Even though we’re obviously exclusive.”   
  
“Speak for yourself,” he heard Eva say in the background. This time he could recognize her voice.    
  
“Ignore her. She’s desperate to marry me, you know. She’s just afraid to admit how much she loves the idea of it. Speaking of…how’s the wife-to-be?”   
  
William let out a low breath, not saying anything into his end of the phone. Instead, he picked at a loose thread in the cushion of the couch and considered whether or not he wanted to open this Pandora’s box of troubles. Sharing them with anyone else made them real. But letting it stay a dirty secret meant every time he saw Noora from here on out it would be uncomfortable—and knowing Chris and Eva were still a thing, whatever extent that was, meant he’d more than likely be forced to share a room with her again at some point in the future.     
  
At the lack of any response, Chris cleared his throat. “Trouble in Paradise, huh?”    
  
“Yeah,” William said, reluctant. “Listen, if I tell you something, can you promise you won’t tell Eva?”   
  
Chris’ tone changed significantly. “Uh, sure, yeah. What’s up?”   
  
There were a few beats of silence as William tried to figure out how to tell him what had happened. “Noora was here…on business.” When Chris didn’t say anything, William continued, the dead air over the receiver urging him to share more than he might have originally intended. “She was on assignment to interview Sophia and one thing lead to another and we might have sort of…it was a mistake. Or, well, not a mistake, but…”   
  
“Dude,” Chris started. He was about to go on, but William heard a shuffling and Eva’s voice re-entered the conversation.    
  
“Is that William?” she asked in a muffled tone. “Fucking hell,” she said, her voice raising in staccato. “Fucking hell!”   
  
“What’s she going on about?” William asked.    
  
Chris was busy trying to quiet Eva and William could hear Eva’s voice getting higher and more excited sounding. She had to have been on top of Chris by the clarity in which he could hear her voice.    
  
“Am I on speaker?” he asked.    
  
“No. She’s just very close. Eva, please,” Chris said, a cross between irritation and mirth. William was beginning to think this hadn’t been the best idea. Her voice became more distant in the background, implying that Chris had moved away from her. It gave William a little peace of mind, but only just barely. He wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted it to get back to Noora that he’d been asking after her or talking about what had gone on the night before.    
  
“Sorry about that. Poor timing. I, uh…I didn’t know it was you, man,” Chris said. “Or else I might not have called. Fucking hell you two are complicated. Eva’s been on the phone with Noora all morning. She’s a mess. Did you…did you sleep with her?” There was a mix between disbelief and approval in Chris’ voice.    
  
“Is she home then?” William didn’t confirm or deny Chris’ question outright, but the omission of denial was enough of a confirmation.    
  
“I think she got a direct flight this morning. Eva’s going to have lunch with her. I think she’s pretty…messed up over it. Fuck, dude. You’re engaged. You know how long it took her to move on before. We talked about this.”   
  
“I didn’t know it was going to happen, Chris,” William said, trying to defend himself. “It just sort of…one thing led to another. You know she drinks now?”   
  
“In, like, extreme moderation,” Chris corrected.    
  
Something about the way Chris knew this fact, and knew it in specific detail, stung William. He let out yet another sigh. His temper was starting to rise with every second that passed.    
  
“What are you going to do?”   
  
“I don’t know,” William bit back. “She left; just like she did last time. She always leaves when things get hard. I don’t think she wants to be with me or anything…it was just a mistake.”   
  
“You’re such a hypocrite,” Chris said. “You avoid confrontation just as much as she does.”   
  
“Did you call to lecture me?”    
  
“No! I didn’t know you were the reason I’m not getting laid this morning. I was bored, Eva was on the phone, I knew Noora was flying back from London, which made me think of you, so I just thought I’d call and see how you were. If I’d known I was going to get chewed out, I wouldn’t have bothered.”    
  
William tried to rein his emotions back in and apologized for snapping.   
  
“Listen,” Chris said. “I know it’s not my place to meddle, but…Noora tells Eva a lot and Eva sort of…talks a lot when she’s drunk. It’s like…” He thought carefully about what he was about to say. “I’m pretty sure she never stopped loving you, Will. And I know you never stopped loving her. Don’t fuck this up again. You’ve got a second chance and I hear second chances don’t come around as often as you think.”   
  
“Is Eva your therapist now?” William said, his tone lighter.    
  
“Fuck. If you want to keep being miserable, that’s fine. I don’t know why you always have to sabotage yourself though. Is the opportunity to be stubborn really worth being miserable your whole life? Let me guess. She’s not even home, is she? Every time I talk to you, Sophia’s gone on some trip.”   
  
Everything Chris was saying was true, which only made William more reluctant to acknowledge what he knew he’d have to do. There was no way he’d let Noora go again. As much as his rational brain told him he’d more than likely end up miserable and alone at the end of it all, he owed it to himself to see if there was a chance for them. He owed it to her. This time he’d do it right. This time he’d go after her.     
  
“I’m going to regret this,” William said. “I just know it…but…where is she living now?”   
  
When William hung up with Chris, the first thing he did was get his briefcase and empty it of paper. He didn’t know how long he’d be in Oslo, but he was hoping it’d be longer than just a few hours, and if that were the case, he’d want to at least have one change of clothes and a toothbrush. If thing turned out well, he’d go from there. For right now, he would take it slowly.    
  
His head was a mess of thoughts. It was a miracle he was able to think straight enough to accomplish anything. With every second that ticked by, he grew more and more anxious with excited anticipation of where he was going and what it meant for the future.    
  
Only when he heard the front door open did he finally force himself to consider what it was he’d tell Sophia. He’d had no idea how long she would be in Milan and so he hadn’t spent any time considering how he’d reason his absence if she came home to find him gone.    
  
Her voice carried through the house as she called hello and William took a deep breath, readying himself to dive straight in.    
  
He wasn’t sure what was going to happen with Noora, but he was sure of something else. That he’d never stand a chance with her if he was still with Sophia. Breaking it off with her would not come easily. They were more than just boyfriend and girlfriend, after all. They were supposed to be getting married, planning a life together, making a future.    
  
William put the briefcase over his shoulder and walked out of their bedroom, into the living room and came face to face with Sophia.    
  
“Hi,” she said warmly. “I am so knackered. Those trips, no matter how long or short they are, always seem to absolutely drain me.” She was busying herself around the room, unpacking her own work items and getting them organized about the room, no doubt setting herself up to start working again, regardless of having been home for only a few minutes. “You know, as I was walking up, I noticed those scuffs along the wall again…the ones outside the front? I thought I had asked you to repaint that a while back.” For the first time, she looked up to make eye contact with him. “Any chance you could get to that today? I’m horrified to know they were there when that girl from ELLE came by. Lucky enough she seemed a bit plain, so I doubt she really noticed.”    
  
At the mention of Noora, and in such a way, William’s skin crawled. As he watched Sophia continue what she was doing, completely unaware of what he’d been doing, and seemingly completely uncaring, something inside him settled and he knew with absolute clarity and certainty that what he was about to say was the right thing—regardless of whether or not Noora was interested in seeing where the previous night could lead them.   
  
“Do you love me?” he asked.    
  
She looked up and furrowed her brows. “Of course,” she said. She stood from where she’d been bent over her belongings. “If this is about the paint, I’d just like it to be done. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”   
  
“It’s not about the paint,” he said. “But I’m not surprised you haven’t noticed until now. You’re hardly home enough to notice.”   
  
“William, I really don’t have the time,” she said, getting back to what she was doing.    
  
“Do you love me,” he said again. “Or is it just the idea of me…the fact that you have someone here waiting for you?”   
  
“My life has become absolute chaos in the last few months, and to be honest, this all feels just a little ridiculous. Whatever this is about, can we focus on it later?”   
  
William could feel himself growing cold and he didn’t do a thing to rein it back in. “No,” he said. “That’s the thing. I don’t think I want there to be a later.”   
  
This caught her attention.   
  
“What are you talking about?”   
  
“I’m talking about the fact that you have no problem being away for days or weeks at a time. You’re so self-involved; I think I could live an entirely separate life and you might not even notice.    
  
He started to see why Noora might have left London in the first place, when they’d first moved there together. He’d done the very same thing to her…become so wrapped up in proving himself to his dad that he’d neglected to make sure she knew she was still a valuable part of his life. That living in London wouldn’t be the same if it wasn’t living in London with her.    
  
“I lied the other night,” he said.    
  
She was becoming very put off by his antics. “What are you talking about,” she asked, almost indifferent.    
  
“Dinner with Noora,” he said. For a moment, Sophia’s face faltered. Maybe it had something with the fact that Noora’s name fell off his tongue with practiced ease. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she couldn’t possibly think of anything he might have lied about in the duration of that conversation. Especially considering it had centered around her—as most things in her life tended to.    
  
“What are you talking about?” she said, repeating her words from a few moments ago, this time with more aggravation. “I do not have time to play games, William.”   
  
“That’s why I’m going to make it easy for you,” he said. “I…” he mulled the words over in his mouth, testing them out before releasing them into the world. Noora and I used to date. Noora and I used to live together. Noora is the reason I could never truly be happy with you. In the end he settled for, “Noora and I went to high school together and…seeing her brought back a lot of unresolved issues from my past.”   
  
Perhaps that was a cop-out, leaving it at attending school together rather than saying what he meant.    
  
Bored and generally unmoved by the declaration, Sophia waved him off and rolled her eyes. “What, did you have a crush on her? Did you date her? Please, William.” She licked her lips and shrugged it off. “I’m not threatened by a little childish secret kept from when you were a teenager.”   
  
It wasn’t unfair that she couldn’t tell what he was trying to say. William was being especially vague in his declaration and had yet to say what he wanted in black and white terms. Cutting to the chase, he said, “Fill in the blanks, Sophia. Hear what I’m not saying. I lied to you. Noora and I went to high school together. You said it yourself…”   
  
This time the words landed on her ears differently and she knew what he meant.   
  
“I see,” she said. She averted her eyes and continued moving about the room.    
  


“Would you stop moving long enough to talk to me? This isn’t easy to say.”

“You think it’s easy to hear? What are you telling me? That this whole thing has been a lie?” She gestured to the room at large. “Well I have news for you, honey.  You’re not the only one who has secrets.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He clenched his jaw and stood more firmly in his spot, trying to remind himself that he really had no room to grow upset with her after what he’d done. 

“You think I sit in my hotel all night by myself when I’m in Paris or Milan or New York? You think you’re the only one who can get between my legs and accomplish a job? Let me tell you, William Magnusson. You are not the end-all and be-all.” 

“What are you saying?” he asked, unwilling to hear the truth of her words. 

She took a step closer to him and threw her sketchpad on a chair as she approached. “What I’m saying, dearest  _ fiancé _ , is that whatever it is you think you’ve done to shatter this,” she waved her hand between them, “believe me. I have done it ten times more and ten times better. You want your little high school girlfriend? Have her. She wasn’t much to look at anyway. And it certainly doesn’t seem like she has much in way of aspirations if she thought this little interview was her big break. Or that you were worth risking her career.” 

At this point it was taking everything within William not to say something he’d regret. As she stood mere inches from his face, spitting her words at him with vicious malice, he retreated within himself and worked to remove any shred of visible hurt from his face. 

“Great then,” he said evenly. “Then we’re agreed.”

“If by agreed you mean we both know that this marriage will be for appearances only, then yes.” She turned to go back to work on unpacking her things and raised her hands to her brow. 

“I don’t want to get married, Sophia.”

Her shoulders sagged, and she turned once more to face him. “Jesus Christ, William. You’re completely ruining a wonderful mood. Stop with this nonsense. I don’t care; you can sleep with her all you like.”

“I don’t want to marry you, Sophia. The wedding is off. I’m leaving you. We’re through.” 

She parted her lips and looked toward the ceiling. “Like hell you’re leaving me.”

“It’s not really something you have a say in.”

Sophia narrowed her eyes and leaned her head in, whispering as she spoke. “Like hell I don’t. You want to be through with this? You want to ruin the greatest thing that’s happened to you since moving here? Want to give up Daddy’s approval and admiration? Then so be it, but it’s on my terms. Do you hear me? I won’t be made to look a fool in front of the entire design industry. And if that little twat writes anything less than glamorous in her article, I will have her head on a platter. Understood? Don’t come crawling back when she doesn’t want to be with you or when you’ve had the time and space to see what you’re missing out on.”  

William nodded his head, thinking already that if these were her true colors, he was glad to be rid of them. “I’ll phone your assistant when I’m ready to collect my things. And Sophia,” he tugged at the lobe of his ear and shifted his feet, itching to leave. “Don’t quit your day job. Bitchy housewife doesn’t really suit you.”


	13. Noora

Chapter 13 — Noora

Permanently numbed ever since and by the chaotic mistake of a night - so all in all the trip to London itself - Noora’s fingers thundered across the keyboard of her laptop. They’d been constantly doing so ever since she stepped inside the safety of her home yesterday morning - except for that one hour, where Eva stopped by to force some lunch down her throat. She wasn’t about to let this mess of an emotional misstep stop her from staying absolutely and utterly professional, which meant she had to write the article - other woman or not. Writing meant working, working meant being distracted and distracted meant not thinking about William.

That was until her eyes, slowly sliding along the hundred of lines that made up her interview with Sophia, reached the part where Noora (against her own actual need) had asked about her engagement to the handsome lawyer. A cool, unpleasant feeling ran through her veins, her body reacting with a small shudder.

“ _Oh, yes. I’m a very lucky woman,_ ” Noora could still - all too clearly - hear the tone in Sophia’s voice as she’d spoken very highly of William. The word ‘uncomfortable’ couldn’t do the job of describing what she’d felt right then and there - not back then; not now.  “ _He works for his dad in one of London’s most wanted law firms, so we of course expect to inherit it, when the time comes._ ”

Noora remembered internally cringing, wanting to ask how _she_ was involved with the firm, yet simply settling for biting her tongue and it just being how their relationship was. What was his (father’s) was hers as well - apparently. Right then, Noora wanted nothing more than to shut down her laptop and throw it away - anything but read all of this bullshit once more. It made her think too much, and it was a dangerous path to go down, even just consider. But in the end, it’s not like it’d make anything _worse_. She kept on reading.

“ _So we met through his dad, a very kind man_ ,” Noora had to scoff out loud at that, since she couldn’t really allow herself to do that, when she’d been right in front of Sophia. “I _t’s just been beautiful ever since I laid my eyes on him for the first time. He wasn’t easy to win over, but that just how he is. He likes to play tough, a bit hard to get, when he really wants something. The thrill of the chase isn’t his thing.”_

Noora had to stop at that. Of course this wasn’t exactly her first time discovering these words, but she’d never actually thought too much of them. This time though, it suddenly did feel like discovering them for the first time, and it caused a deep frown. More than anything, she was aware of the fact that she hadn’t been around for eight years - there was a huge gap in their timeline - but she’d still forever allow herself to state that she knew William Magnusson _pretty well_ . This also meant that she’d forever stand by the statement that William Magnusson _lived_ for the thrill of the chase - Noora would know…

Unless chasing someone for 6 months straight - whilst tolerating being constantly and obviously ignored, shut down and called the wrong name  - counted as ‘ _the thrill of the chase not being his thing’._

How could she not wonder about what that meant? Did it even have to mean anything? Just because Sophia and William had a different story, it didn’t mean it wasn’t genuine. Maybe William simply didn’t chase Sophia, because she wasn’t to be chased. In desperation and confusion, the young journalist buried her face in her hands, rubbing her temples as to fade out the black hole of analysing which she’d stepped into. Desperately sliding her hands back in frustration with the situation, pushing down the small strands of hair that had escaped her messy half up half down bun,  she considered taking a break. As a result of being at it, the researching and writing, for the past 8 hours, her brain was starting to lead her down inappropriate paths and the future Magnussons’ relationship wasn’t her place to investigate. Nonetheless neither was sleeping with him, yet here she was with a bruised, lust-stained neck and torso that culpably coordinated with the red scratches on her back. Absentmindedly caressing one of the last remains of him, a dark hickey on her collarbone, she couldn’t help but wonder how many similar blotches Sophia had let him besmirch her flawless porcelain skin with.

“Herregud…” like a lightning bolt from a clear, blue sky, Noora managed to escape her daydreaming (if it could even be categorised so) as she felt her fingers flee the crime scene that was her collarbone. She shook her head, embarrassed by the lost train of thought and looked at the still full cup of coffee by her computer. Carefully, she reached out and touched it. Cold. A sigh of slight annoyance (at the currently smallest problem in her life) left her body as she got up and made her way to the kitchen, where she flipped on the light switch, casting light onto the dark,  evening-submerged room. In a matter of minutes, after pouring the cup’s cold content into the sink, the electric boiler was building up steam (literally) and obnoxiously announcing its piece of work as Noora absentmindedly turned away from the the window, where she’d been staring into Oslo’s darkness. After quickly pouring a teaspoon of instant coffee into the cup, dissolving it with boiling water, the young woman could console herself with the fact that she’d completed at least one task without sleeping with its future husband. As she was dragging her legs - clad in her old, black pyjama pants - back to the safety of her office, a hard knock on the door counter-worked the desired action. Three knocks, sharp, determined.

Noora’s head shot around, glancing over her shoulder at the door at the end of the hall. It was just a knock, but in all honesty, whoever was standing outside didn’t really come off as friendly. With technology these days, it just seemed too sketchy to show up at someone’s door. Silence swallowed her once more, leading her to hesitantly twist her torso back towards her office, as she carefully kept her eyes on the door - just in case. Another three loud knocks sent a shock through her, almost electric, from head to toe. Someone really wanted to talk to her - or kill her. As if this wasn’t enough, her phone suddenly called out from her office, letting her know that someone had texted her. Being way too occupied by the mystery visitor, Noora quickly shrugged it off and told herself that she’d have to get back to whoever it was.

Almost certain that she was going to regret her choice, the woman decided to make her way to the door. Slowly, almost like she was afraid to touch it, her hand reached out for the golden doorknob and simply held onto it for a few seconds. A contrast between the warm coffee-cup in one hand and the cold, metallic doorknob in the other felt weird, almost catching her off guard as if it was her biggest concern right then. After another deep breath, taking a quick glance at her bare feet, her wrist slowly turned and dragged the doorknob into a similar motion. Like ripping off a bandaid, doing it before she could back out as her heart galloped like a young a steed, she’d drawn the door towards herself, allowing the mystery guest to be exposed. In contrary to the before racing heart, it suddenly snapped and stopped beating altogether.

Right in front of her stood a soaked William Magnusson, his clothes dripping onto the floor in front of her door. In complete disagreement with the man she knew - the confident, provocative, defensive and enthralling - stood a William with drenched bangs cascading down to cover his left eye, only letting Noora see the serenity yet hopelessness in his right one. Physically, he stood tall in front of her, hands buried in his black jeans’ pockets. But spiritually? She hadn’t seen him that low in a long time - if ever. Slowly, almost as if she was afraid of moving too fast and cause an explosion, she let her hand slip off the door handle and join the other in holding her cup in front of her. Neither said anything, both probably waiting for the other, even though Noora couldn’t help but expect him to speak up first. A heavy raindrop slid down the bridge of his nose, all the way to the tip, before falling to the ground and bursting. The tiny motion was the only thing happening in this almost time isolated capsule, and it was driving Noora insane, almost mad, on the inside. Why was he here? If he was here to yell at her, tell her how she’d ruined his life again, then he could just go ahead and get it over with. Maybe it’d do her some kind of good in the long run.

Then suddenly, out of absolutely nowhere, it seemed to Noora like his look softened. Just a little twitch of his brows, his brown irises’ undertones slowly growing warmer. Did she miss out on something? Was he just having the whole conversation inside his head? Breathing in, feeling cool air hitting her front teeth as her lips parted just slightly to speak, Noora realised she didn’t _have_ anything to say to him. No start, no end - she had nothing on her mind but a blank canvas, slowly driving her to hell and back.

“I left her.” Looks like he beat her too it.

Whilst she didn’t realise it at first, too busy replaying the three words in her mind and trying to put them together like an unsolvable puzzle, a warm feeling of relief and immense joy washed over her. Still she couldn’t get herself to move, locked to the spot, and could stare blankly at him. What did it mean? _Left her._ It couldn’t be… Her upper front teeth carefully, throwing both herself and him back in time, dug into her pale pink bottom lip. Just the night before, she’d done the exact same thing - for other reasons- and it took everything within him not to press her up against the small, sharp edge of her door frame. It almost seemed like they were just waiting to be used as resistance. But he’d have to wait. He was very aware of the fact that one misstep could frighten her, leaving him with no way back. Then suddenly - even though she’d already wanted to as soon as the words had left his lips - Noora hesitantly took a small step across the doorframe, which until now had worked as a frontier between the two hearts.

Warmth was still radiating off the mug, into Noora’s palms, as she stood right in front of her life’s probably biggest scandal. Hesitantly leaning into him like she had that day - many years ago - where they’d talked in front of her apartment as Chris’ car impatiently hummed right besides them. Back then she’d been persuaded of the fact that she’d changed his mind; had made him want to ditch the plane and stay in Oslo with her.

 _“I love you,”_ she remember feeling so intimidated by those words, almost choking on them, as she’d hesitated before saying them out loud. It was still brand new to her back then. _“And you love me.”_ That was a big statement on her part, but that day, William had been in a remarkably bad headspace and she’d had to say it. The familiarity of the scene was almost intimidating. Her forehead ever so carefully placed against the side of his - the one that wasn’t hiding behind his stupid bangs - as her eyes danced back and forth between his deep, mocha eyes and his pale lips. _“We have to be together. Tell me we should be together…”_

Of course he’d regretted back then and came back, but a strong fear of him leaving again suddenly took over and froze her body, tensing up like she was afraid that something was going to hit her. Maybe she should’ve stayed behind the safety of her door frame, but alas that was too late and now all she could do was stand there, more vulnerable and exposed than ever, whilst looking at him with hopeful eyes. Finally, his eyes rose from the ground to meet hers, engaging in a mute conversation between the two. Either could move just an inch and their noses would touch, which seemed awfully dangerous yet even more intriguing. Figuring that he was waiting for some sort of signal, Noora let go of her fears and let a very careful, shy smile rise to her lips. The very next second, her pale green eyes hid behind the safety of her lids as his hands carefully slid into position on her cheeks, then gradually into her hair as he allowed his lips to finally merge with hers.

The kiss was unimaginably slow and soft, not like the one last night, which wasn’t a complaint but also somehow reassuring to Noora. Tonight wasn’t last night, and hopefully the aftermath would also have a different fallout. Their lips, safely interlocked, kept moving in fulfilled harmony as they both fell in deeper and deeper as a reaction to every muscle’s slightest movement. If it wasn’t for the fact that she still held onto the now lukewarm coffee cup, Noora’s trembling hands would already have been tugging on his soaked locks. Her need for him - his touch, presence, care - was rapidly growing. As if he could read her mind, something clicked in William’s brain, causing him to take a step forward -  then another and so on - obligating her to back up into the darkness of her apartment. She didn’t hesitate to follow his lead, fully aware of where they both wanted to go. The slight coolness of the apartment instantly melted, as soon as Noora felt William’s hands leave her hair to grab her hips, as he spun her around and closed the door by driving her body into its hard surface. Hopefully they didn’t wake up anyone, when it caused a loud clap that rung throughout the entire apartment complex. Coffee, shaken as well by William’s almost animal-like move, overflowed the mugs edges and landed on the wooden floor in a splattered puddle.

“I was right,” William breathed - having noticed the spilled coffee, which took him back to the coffee stain on his and Sophia’s flawless carpet - against her neck before kissing it, starting a downwards path. “You stain.”

As if she wasn’t emotionally provoked enough already, these words struck something in Noora Amalie Saetre. Out of nowhere, surprising herself more than anyone else, she threw the mug to the ground in order to grab his hair and pull him back up to look straight into his eyes. “But I won’t run this time.”

And with that said, they both somehow knew that there was nothing else to be said for now. Letting her crash her lips to his in another kiss, this time more heated than ever before, William managed to back over the caffeinated mess on the floor and pull the blonde muse with him. Wanting to avoid the spilled coffee and broken glass as well, Noora took advantage of his strong pull on her hips and clung tightly  onto his neck, telling him to lift her off the ground. No one would have to tell him twice. As soon as she was safely placed on his lower abdomen, legs safely wrapped around him, she could go back to tug on his now damp hair.

“Straight,” she breathed heavily, barely managing to do so in between kissing him and being kissed, before finishing her command “ahead.”

For these two, there was no time to waste. Not right now. William immediately started making his way towards what he assumed was Noora’s bedroom, as she started unbuttoning the buttons of his drenched, white shirt.  He already had the very first one popped open, which caused her to momentarily smile into the otherwise carnal kiss - he’d remembered.

Upon walking into the bedroom, after having Noora’s back briefly rest against the closed door as he fumbled - already very busy -  with the handle, William let them plunge into the white sheets. It didn’t take much time, not being able to resist, before his hands were tugging on her oversized sweater and pulling it over her head. Growing impatient, as he had quickly removed both her sweater and pants, Noora put a firm hand to his chest and pushed him up into a sitting position - this without as much as thinking of breaking the kiss, of course. Quickly, small and swift as she was, she followed him and allowed herself to straddle his thighs. This would allow her to finish the button-job. When ripping it off his rain-damp upper body, and throwing it to the empty ground besides the bed, Noora couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be lucky enough to tug herself into it in the morning, as they ate breakfast. The brief daydreaming must’ve unconsciously caused her to momentarily halt, as a tight clench on her thighs - followed by sweet, delirious bites into her neck - drew her back into reality with a soft moan to show for it.

This was obviously a very desired response, as a smug smile crept onto the handsome’s face at the sound of the blonde’s pleasure. Upon noticing this, a furiously embarrassed blush crept to the apple of her cheeks. As much as Noora was in another world - completely lost in lust -

the young, innocent girl from high school couldn’t help but make a small appearance. And whilst it was no secret that her and William had done this _many_ times before, another truth to add was also the fact that Noora probably couldn’t remember the last time (before the previous night) she was intimate with a guy.

“Cute,” he mumbled into her ear, grinning and making sure that his lips tickled it. Having this specific effect on her was more than a compliment to William, even though Noora obviously hated it, mumbling a faded, half-hearted _shut up_ before immediately turning her head to bite down on his bottom lip, gently tugging on it. This surely would avoid more talking or looking at her rosy cheeks. Having to occupy her hands, they started wandering wildly all across his chest, taking in every little inch and detail that she’d missed for so long. As much as she hated the fact that it even as much as grazed her mind - especially right now  as she shivered beneath his cold hands as they slid up her back, feeling her figure, before experimenting with the clasp of her bra - she wondered if he’d missed her tiniest details, small secrets and quirks too? Or if Sophia had caused these things to vanish from his memory. Noora was the one to leave after all… Could she even stand a chance? Love him better than this flawless goddess that she - to some extent - hated so much for being in possession of his attention and love for so many years? After a few tricky seconds of work, William finally figured out the clasps, slipped off the tiny piece of lingerie and placed an adoring, long kiss to the empty valley between her two breast. A wave of undefined, strong, new emotion shot through Noora, hitting her like an epiphany.

Maybe she wasn’t Sophia and she’d never be. And maybe she wasn’t in London, where William loved and wanted to be. Yet, he’d still chosen to be here in Oslo tonight - where Noora wanted to be - instead of back home with her. This couldn’t be another mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting so close to the end, and you guys have no idea how grateful we are that you’ve stuck with us all these weeks. I hope it’s made your summer as great as it has made ours. <3


	14. William

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think it was over? It’s not quite, but almost...
> 
> This is my last chapter, then Emilie will conclude with her final chapter next week. Can’t wait to hear all your final thoughts. We hope it’s been everything you could have hoped for.

Chapter 14 — William

William woke again to a bright white room, the sun’s rays filtering in past drawn curtains and the distant scent of sweat and sex clinging to the sheets surrounding him. His eyes were heavy, like he had been drugged the night before, and as he sluggishly pulled himself from the dream he’d been having, he realized that reality was just as much of a wonderland.

This time, as he rolled to his side and opened his eyes, he found he was not in bed alone.

(It sent a series of butterflies plummeting to the pit of his abdomen and he couldn’t help as a smile tore its way over his lips.)

(He realized, possibly for the first time, if that was possible, that he lived for waking up next to her.)

This time, Noora’s naked back was perfectly silhouetted against the mattress beside him. The sheets pooled around her waist, and she had an arm gently slung over her face atop the pillow, shielding herself from him and the world. By the even rise and fall of her back, William could tell she was still fast asleep.

He stayed still in that moment and watched her like he wished he had ever since he’d been ripped of the opportunity. Those first weeks in London without her had been the hardest. He’d reach out at night to pull her into him only to find that he was alone. Not much in the world gives you a sense of loneliness quite like being abandoned by the one person you’d finally allowed yourself to trust.

So, as William watched her sleep, he made a point to look at her as if this might be the last time. He wasn’t certain it _wasn’t_ the last time. The fact that she was still there was promising, but it didn’t guarantee anything. After all, this was her apartment. In a sense, she was a prisoner in her own home…granted that was only if she wanted to be rid of him. He hoped that wasn’t the case.

He noticed again the way she’d let her hair grow out; it still splayed out behind her head the way it had before when it was shorter, but now it almost touched his pillow. If he scooted closer, it might just barely trace the tip of his nose. Ever so gently, he reached out and traced the line of her spine, his hand disappearing for the briefest of moments beneath the sheets as he reveled in the dimple at the small of her back. Goose bumps smattered across her skin and she shifted so as to gain warmth from somewhere, though William knew she could come up short unless she pulled the sheets back up over her shoulders. When she stilled, he let his fingers hover over each freckle that occupied the canvas of her back and shoulders.

They were perfectly spread out, creating a constellation of beauty on an already perfect being. He’d never tell her this, because it wasn’t anything anyone else needed to know, but he never spent _this_ kind of time appreciating other women. No one drew him into a state of awe like she did.

Noora stirred again and rolled over onto her back, forcing William to retreat just a fraction of an inch. He was graced with a plentiful view of her chest and collarbone. Languidly, like she had all the time in the world, she let her eyes pull upward and her lips followed suit, casting a sheepish, hesitant smile his way.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep.

She reached out and traced her index finger over his lips, then touched the tip of his nose the same way she used to when they were younger. In many ways, Noora looked the same to him, though he couldn’t deny that she’d aged some in the time that had passed. She’d always acted older than she was, but now she had a body to match the part. William dared say it suited her. He wondered if he looked older to her as well—if she ran her fingers over his features out of the need to reaffirm her memory, or a need to make them anew.  

William sunk into the bed and inched his way down a little so that he was at eye level with her midsection. Keeping eye contact with her in case he went too far, he dipped his head to the spot just above her hip and mumbled “good morning,” into her skin, sending a minutia of vibrations up through her abdomen. Her eyes softened and she pushed her hand through his hair, sweeping his bangs out of his face and trying in vain to tuck it behind his ear. The small act gave him the confidence he needed and without hesitation, he disappeared beneath the sheets to give her a proper kiss good morning.

 

An hour or so later, they were both propped up against the wall, her pillows wedged behind their backs to provide a little support. Noora was in nothing but William’s shirt, William was in nothing but his briefs, and both of them held a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

Noora nestled herself securely against William’s side and took a hold of his only free hand, placing it gently on her thigh, palm up, and began to run her fingers over the creases that weaved their way like a map across his skin.

“What are we doing?” she whispered. The words effectively shattered the rose-colored glass that had secured their blissful night—they’d been lucky that it hadn’t been shattered first thing that morning. Even though he hated to think about ‘what they were doing’ he knew it was something they needed to discuss. Or at least acknowledge.

“Whatever you want,” he said. He knew he was putting a lot of pressure on her, but he needed to know where she stood with the situation before he made everything blurry with his own wants.

Noora tilted her head to look up at him out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t know what I want,” she said, hesitant. “I didn’t expect to be in this situation.” She played with his hand for a few seconds more, then cleared her throat. “I know I don’t want you to leave.” She leaned into him even further, if that was possible, and he moved the hand she’d been holding so that it was wrapped around her shoulders instead.

“I won’t leave until you tell me to,” he said into the crown of her hair.

“Good, because I might need your help if I get fired.”

A chuckle rumbled its way out of his chest. “You’re not going to get fired,” he said.

“What makes you so sure?” Noora said, exasperated. She removed herself from his grasp and thrust a hand up to her forehead. William took a moment to revel in the way she looked wearing nothing but his collared shirt—this was his favorite version of her. Hair mussed from a night of sleep and sex, lips slightly swollen, a few hickies staining her skin and his shirt, buttoned half way up, leaving just enough to his memory. She looked radiant in the early morning light. The cup that sat perfectly balanced between both her hands pulled the picture together. Under his intense stare, she faltered. Her brows pulled together before one shot upwards, giving him a quizzical look.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” William said quietly. “You’re so beautiful. You’re not going to lose your job.”

“Beauty has nothing to do with it, _Willhelm_.” She sat forward slightly and let her hand trail down her leg, leaning in his direction. The look on her face said she was teasing, but there was something in her eyes that let him know she truly thought that was his implication.

“That has nothing to do with it, you’re right,” he said. He didn’t mean it that way, of course, but she was right. That was how it had come across. Noora narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. “But you don’t need to worry about her,” he went on. “She’s not going to jeopardize her career and slandering you means slandering herself…trust me, she’s way too concerned about her image to run the risk of letting anything negative come out in the media.”

Noora slumped back against the wall. “I shouldn’t have gotten personally involved in business anyway. It’s my fault if something does come of it.” She stood from the bed and put her coffee mug on the dresser across the room, putting more force behind the gesture than was necessary.

“Are you pissed?” he asked.

“I’m not pissed,” she said. She turned to face him, and her face was covered in red blotches, her eyes full of tears about to be shed. Instantly, William knew he’d said something wrong.

“What is it?” He stood to join her and placed his own mug next to hers before pulling her into him. He was getting frustrated and he tried to keep his emotions in check. “Don’t let her make you feel badly.” His tone held a little bitterness and in an effort to let her know it was not directed toward her, he added, “I’m not going to let anything happen.”

They might have stood like that for an hour, just leaning into one another, using each of their bodies to hold the other up, but a knock from the front door interrupted them and sent Noora spiraling backwards out of William’s arms.

William wanted to ask if she was expecting someone, but it wasn’t his place. They’d only just fallen in bed together again after years and _years_ of being apart. He had no right asking her who she did or did not invite into her own home. Noora didn’t offer any explanation but the look on her face indicated that she was only slightly less confused than he was. As she pushed past him and headed into the living room, he picked up their mugs and followed behind her, admiring the way she was still only wearing his shirt.

He thought briefly that he should suggest she put pants on, but a selfish part of him liked the way this marked her as _his_. He was territorial like that. Especially when it came to her.

The small kitchen sat to the side of the main living area, so while Noora answered the door, William topped of their coffees, giving them a renewed warmth. The second she opened the door and he heard Eva’s voice, William thought he should have seen this coming. He inched his way closer to the hall but stayed far enough back that he could hear the conversation without being seen. A goofy grin made its way over his face as Noora hastily tried to quiet Eva.

“Oh my god, is he here?” Eva said. He heard the door swing wide and hit the wall. “Oh my god!”

When William turned the corner, Eva was holding Noora at arm’s length.

“Careful,” Noora chastised, pushing her friend’s arms away and reaching behind her to grab the door. At the exact moment she was about to slam it shut, Chris appeared on the other side of the threshold. His eyes widened and a he bared his teeth, emitting a fake primal growl.

“Someone’s been naughty.” He pushed his way in and looked Noora up and down.

“Careful,” William said, repeating Noora’s words. Chris licked his lips in an attempt to not laugh and reached out to bring William into a hug.

“Nice of you to drop in,” Chris said.

“Nice of him to drop in?” Noora said, pulling bashfully at the ends of the shirt she was wearing. “Why are you here at…” she searched for a clock but couldn’t find one. “It’s too early for you to barge in here! Why are you here?”

“I sent you a text last night and you never replied. I was worried something had happened,” Eva said, covering her mouth. She pointed between William and Noora. “This was not what I expected.”  

“She wasn’t too worried,” Chris added, one arm still slung over William’s shoulders. “She didn’t want to come check on you until I told her I’d talked to our good friend, here.”

As soon as Chris had removed his arm from William’s back, William made his way over to Noora and gently suggested she go get dressed. She immediately put her hands to the hem of his shirt and excused herself, encouraging everyone to make a plan for breakfast while she was changing.

___

Twenty minutes later, Noora and Eva were seated at a window table in a small café down the road. William and Chris had just approached the counter and were currently waiting for their orders to be ready for pick-up. The girls sat in excited anticipation, both of them watching and waiting for the second the guys were out of earshot.

As soon as the coast was clear, Eva turned to Noora with her hands folded under her chin, the apples of her cheeks rosy with excitement, and her mouth poised and ready to ask questions. She might as well have had hearts for eyes the way she was looking at her best friend.

“Tell me everything,” she said, only sort of being quiet. “Are you guys getting back together? How did this happen?”

Her excitement was contagious and overwhelming at the same time. It wasn’t that Noora hadn’t been excited on her own before Eva and Chris arrived, but something about the four of them being together again made the reality of her situation sink in. It didn’t feel like they were in school again, per se…but she couldn’t deny that there was a small part of her trying to navigate the waters of past and present, siphon through the ways in which she’d grown in her absence from William in an effort to determine if she were better off with him or without…

Just thinking about being _without_ him after the past two days sent a surge of sadness through her heart.

“So…are you guys getting back together?” Eva asked again.

Noora drew her eyes away from William at the counter and let them fall back to the friend seated in front of her. She pushed away the hopeful look that she knew she had plastered across her face.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. She looked over to the counter one more time to make sure they had time before the guys would return. “I think I want to take things slowly. Well, I mean I guess we sort of ruined that right out of the gate, but…he was _engaged_ , for Pete’s sake.”

Eva brushed her off. “Yeah, but so what. She sounds like a troll.”

“She’s anything but a troll,” Noora said, her eyes finding their way back to William’s frame.

(That was something she had to acknowledge. Ever since they’d found their way back to one another, she’d had a hard time taking her eyes off him. He was the altogether the same and altogether different at the same time—and that scared her. There would be so much they’d need to relearn about one another.)

“You know,” she started, still watching William, “He’s not asked about last time…I keep sort of wondering if it’ll come up. Surely, he harbors some kind of resentment at the fact that I just packed up and left. I know I would.”

“Maybe he’s moved on,” Eva offered.

Noora’s face pulled in reaction to her suggestion. “I doubt it,” she said. “I’m certain we’ll have to talk about it eventually. He might be happy to never bring it up, but if we don’t clear the air, it’ll be a giant elephant in the room for the rest of our lives…I don’t want it to be something we hold over one another in an argument a year from now.”

“Noora,” Eva said, reaching out and pulling the blonde’s hand to her so that she’d pay attention to what she was about to say. Her tone softened, the teasing and bubbly excitement turning into a gentle consolation. “You can’t take your eyes off him. I know you’re nervous…which is smart. You should be. But, listen to yourself. You’re already thinking about a fight you may or may not have a year from now. That’s got to mean you’re at least slightly interested in having a future with him.”

“But I’m worried about us fighting! Shouldn’t I be with someone I don’t worry I’ll fight with every morning? We skirted a fight this morning. Maybe we have to face it and we’re just not meant to be together long term.”

“Do you really mean that though? Look at you two.” Eva tilted her head in the direction of the counter. “The second you turn your head, his eyes dart over here and I swear,” she leaned back and folded her arms close to her chest, the devilish smile returning to her face. “If he doesn’t drag you off to the bathroom before he lets you leave for work, I’ll give you 200 krone.”

Noora blushed which only encouraged Eva’s smile to widen.  

“Do you need me to tell you it’s okay if it doesn’t work out again? Because it’s okay if it doesn’t work out again. But if you ask me, I think you owe it to yourselves to give it a real shot. Besides. I’m getting tired of going out with Borkis and his girlfriend. He has this…it’s like a tick, but it’s not…he clears his throat and spits snot while we’re walking down the street and it’s just…I can’t anymore...”

Noora was vaguely aware of Eva talking, but her attention was focused on William as he stood beside Chris at the counter. She thought through what Eva had been saying, and in her heart, she knew she was right. They’d ended things abruptly and without real reason last time. They had also been very young and moving in together so soon had probably not been the best idea. But the problem wasn’t with her heart. Her heart wanted William. Her heart had always wanted him.

It was her head that was the problem. It was her rational side. The part that reminded her they’d spent a lot of time arguing, that reminded her of the way he’d been consumed by work and the need to prove himself. Her rational side was a nag. It kept her from taking chances…it convinced her to leave one of the only people she’d ever felt really saw her for who she was, and somehow, against all odds, they’d found their way back to one another.

As she watched him laughing with Chris, she felt herself growing open to the idea of giving it another shot. She didn’t know what she wanted, that was still true. But she knew she wanted to find out, and in order to do so, she’d need to give _them_ a chance.

Just as she was coming to this conclusion within herself, a young and attractive brunette came to the counter with an assortment of plates and bowls on a tray. She flashed a bright smile to both Chris and William, but a moment later was leaning in a little closer than necessary to William. Noora’s heart lurched and fell into the pit of her stomach. Her blood thrummed through her veins and pooled in her ears, making everything around her go fuzzy. The woman tucked her hair behind her ear and said something that sent William into a brief spell of laughter.

Noora felt like she was a teenager again, watching him potentially flirt with someone who wasn’t her. Being conflicted between thinking he wasn’t good for her but not being able to deny the fact that she _wanted_ him regardless.

God, did she want him.

Without looking to Eva, Noora pushed herself up off the chair and carried herself across the room, snaking her hands under William’s jacket and around his torso from behind. She leaned into him, pressing her body against his. Her hands wound their way up his chest and lightly skirted over the material of his shirt until he spun to face her.

Over his shoulder, Noora could see waitress retreating into the back of the café. She didn’t care where she was going or what she was doing so long as she wasn’t talking to William. Noora was normally very confident. Jealousy wasn’t really a trait she would have acknowledged having but…perhaps the fact that she had only just got him back was making her more territorial. Maybe she was willing to acknowledge the fact that she wanted him all to herself. Even if her head and her heart were still navigating the fine balance between being smart and being reckless.

“Hi,” William said, leaning in to capture her lips.

“Hi,” she whispered back. Distantly, she noticed Chris saying something that sounded vaguely like _‘get a room’_ as he carried as much as he could back to the table.

William let his hands travel down to cup her ass and it sent a series of butterflies shooting through her abdomen. She leaned into him a little more until she was almost inside his jacket. He ran a finger over her brow then trailed down the side of her face until he was pinching her chin and pulled her into him for a real kiss. They were still standing at the counter, but Noora was completely lost in him, completely unaware of the fact that the whole of the café could see what they were doing.

As they pulled apart, Noora could tell William was studying her.

“What?” she asked, hesitant.

He paused for a moment, that hard-to-read stare focused on her. She memorized the way his brow was furrowed just slightly, memorized the way his eyes were soft even though his jaw was set. She tried to remember that there was a whole world inside his head that he never allowed the people around him to enter. She forced herself to give him the time to say what he needed to on his own terms.  

William raised his hand again and pushed her hair out of her face, unsuccessfully attempting to tuck it behind her ear. “I’m sorry I didn’t come after you before,” he said, his voice quiet.

Noora’s face turned red and she could feel the heat emanating from her. “No,” she said, too quickly. “I’m sorry I left like that. And then I did it again the other day.”

William shook his head and moved his other hand up from where it had been resting, letting it instead sit along her hip, toying with the hem of her shirt.

“It’s not your fault though,” he said, shaking his head. “I should have never put you in the position. Either time.”

Noora licked her lips and put her hands on either side of his face, pushing his hair back out of his eyes to no avail.

“I can’t believe you still have this haircut,” she said.

He rolled his eyes, but his face remained soft. It was a silent acknowledgement that they would each let bygones be bygones. It was an unspoken, _I forgive you_.

“Hey, you,” she said, drawing his attention back. When he was focused on her again and she was certain that he knew she wasn’t holding any resentment, she said with clarity, with certainty, and with a plea that implied need and want and desire, “Stay with me.”

“Okay,” William said.

He leaned down and captured her lips and distantly in the background, they heard and uproar of cheering and loud applause. It was decidedly small and almost certainly only coming from one table.

When they pulled apart, Noora buried her head in William’s chest and he extended his hand in the direction of their best friends, only one finger exposed. The cheering didn’t necessarily stop, but it did turn to laughter.

Laughter, old and new memories and much more were shared across the table as the four enjoyed their breakfast in the rays of Oslo’s early autumn-sun. It had been forever since the four of them had sat down and actually talked - if ever. Back in high school, Chris and Eva had always been in this weird ‘not dating but kinda exclusive’-stage, which meant that hanging out with them had never really been an evident option to either of them. Yet now that they were here, feeling like they all knew each other inside out, they somewhat regretted that fact. Noora, who’d always seen Chris as nothing but a fuckboy, began to see what Eva found attractive in the guy. He was actually pretty smart and from what William had told her, he had a good heart as well. She could only smile to herself and shake her head as she thought of how big of a misunderstanding her three years in high school were…

Whilst other hand was gently allowing her to take a sip of her coffee, Noora used her free, ring-clad index finger to press the button of her phone. It’d become a habit - good or bad was debatable - to constantly check on time. Her eyes widened - startled by the time - immediately putting down the coffee cup and pushing her chair back. This immediately caught the other’s attention - especially William.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to leave now! I’ll talk to you later,” and with a last sip of coffee, the rushed movement almost causing it to spill all over herself, the journalist grabbed her bag and rushed out onto the street. The three abandoned friends could only look at each other - or mostly just Eva and Chris looking at William - with profound confusion. It almost felt like William’s feet were burning a hole in the floor beneath the table, as he could almost physically feel Noora get further and further away from him with every step she took. The burning sensation in his feet quickly spread to the rest of his body, like an out of control wildfire, making him feel uncomfortable and cramped in his seat. It didn’t take long for Chris to notice.

“You know you don’t have to stay here, right?” Chris’ confusion had quickly faded and had transitioned into a cocked brow, quickly understanding the strained look on William’s face - even though he’d probably never understand the weird things his best friend experienced because of that woman. Few seconds later, William took his friend’s advice and pushed out his chair to leave the café. As soon as he made it outside, after shuddering at the chilly weather and pulling his coat on tighter, he spotted the blonde hair flying in the wind just down the street.

It felt silly. It wasn’t like she was leaving, running away from him, but his entire body was high on some kind of adrenaline rush. Almost like a hunter that was about to put down his pray. He could fight it all he wanted, but his body was yearning for her and he simply couldn’t stay on the spot. There was nothing he wanted more than grab her, drag her back home and hide with her behind the curtains and beneath the covers. She had become a necessity. Not just to his happiness, but entire living and being.

“Noora!” He hadn’t even realised he’d called out her name, before she spun around with lips parted in surprise and hair flying around her head-  almost in slow-mo like in a movie.

His legs finally got moving to meet her by the end of the street, where she was waiting on the corner as cars rushed by and made their way to work and school. As he got closer and closer, he could tell that she had a worried look in her eyes and that’s when it hit him that he actually had nothing specific to say. All he could was blame his emotions for bringing him here.

“What’s wrong?” She pushed her wind-caught hair behind her ear, exposing her almost distressed-looking eyes. No wonder when he came running after her like that.

By then he’d finally caught up with her and realised he had to do something, just something, or else she’d worry too much. Worry that he felt regret, that he’d draw back his emotions or even leave her like she’d left him. So he did the only thing he could think of. Right then and there on the spot. In order to close the little remaining gap between them, he instinctively lurched into her to crash their lips together - almost knocking her over - only to save her by grabbing her waist and spinning her around. Acting upon instinct as well, the blonde quickly caught up with his actions and grabbed his face with her already cold hands - he’d never in a million years mind though. People and cars rushed by, not paying attention to the now euphoric star-crossed lovers, whilst they themselves were in their own little world. While it was passionate, the kiss was sweet and held a lot of emotion, beautifully balancing out last night’s passionate acts. They didn’t have to look at the other two know that they were both smiling, even as the lips detached and their noses were left as the only connection between their faces.

“What was that for?” She chuckled, weakly and just barely enough for him to hear, before sliding a hand down to her neck to delicately caress his neck.

He took a moment to catch his breath, looking down before up again to connect with her eyes. “You left and I realised that I was homeless.”

Noora retreated her head and broke the facial contact, but slid the other hand down onto his neck, keeping a loving hold of him as she studied his facial features. Just one more time, she told herself. “Every time I tell myself that William Magnusson couldn’t be an any bigger cliche, you prove me otherwise…” She giggled and paused. “You…” then let one hand wander away from his neck to push his bangs out of his face. “I’m just going to work. You’ll see me again in a couple of hours.” Noora quickly noticed how an amused smile appeared, telling her that he was having a good laugh on the inside.

“While I do love your very metaphoric train of thought…” he slowly leaned in and pecked the tip of her nose, haltering for just a second before continuing. “I meant literally homeless. I have no place to go, and God be damned if I have to stay with those two fuck-bunnies back there. Then I’d rather stand in the cold and wait outside your office for hours - like a sad puppy.”

“Well,” she had to laugh at that before continuing. “No need to be a sad puppy,” he could feel her fiddling with something in the pocket of her coat, causing his eyes to switch from hers to the mystery object hiding in the soft fabric. “Mi casa es tu casa.” Out of the pocket, held between her index finger and thumb, hung a keychain with a couple of keys in it.

He grabbed the hand, closing his around hers before gently placing them both down by their sides. “Damn… I forgot that you speak Spanish. Either you’ll have to teach me or you’ll have to translate what you just said.” He leaned in closer, once again pressing his nose to hers.

“I can be your teacher…” Her green eyes passionately drilled into his, and William definitely noticed the sensual movement of her hand sliding onto his chest, gently working in circles across the sweater and into the surface that kept his heart safe. Not that it was only his heart that was feeling aroused right then… He somewhat wanted to blame her for making him feel like this in public, but on the other hand he’d been the one to start. Karma.

“But not right here. For now, I’ll just tell you that it means that you need to go home, get into bed and wait for me.” Still surprising herself every time she said something like that, Noora had to add a chuckle as to break the already boiling tension and give the young man in front of her a decent chance. And to William that was the most beautiful smile. He found it stupidly adorable every time she’d explicitly flirt with him, and every time flashed a smile at him, toothy or not; loud or quiet, it was the most beautiful smile. Sophia’s had never made him feel that way, and while t it did also make him feel somewhat guilty, he also knew that it only proved his love for the Norwegian girl to be the right one. The only authentic one. Another kiss was planted to her lips, grabbing her waist and drawing her in again once more, though not for as long as before. After sending her yet another loving smile, he looked down and reached out to gently grab the key from her hand. She let him. His eyes wandered back to hers and they were still smiling. Bust being so infatuated, he didn’t even get to bite his tongue as three very important words almost slipped out of his mouth.

“Noora… I lo-“ He quickly caught the words falling out of his mouth and bit his tongue. Thousands of red flags and alarms appeared in his mind. This was too soon. He’d just been engaged to another woman. Hell, he’d dated her for multiple years while the two had had no contact whatsoever. He had to be careful. Luckily, he managed to correct and save himself.

“… I’ll see you at home.”

She wasn’t neither deaf or stupid. It was Noora’s turn to have an amused smiled plastered across her face. There was no more doubt in her mind about what she wanted, and whilst she couldn’t blame him for feeling insecure, she knew that they’d have to work past it at some point.  “Yeah, I’ll see you at home.”

She received an innocent nod and weak smile from his part, before he spun around and started walking back to the cafe. Hiding them from the cold, he quickly buried his hands in the warmth of his pockets. He could at least stick around at the cafe with Eva and Chris for a bit. It’d keep him from being left alone to think for too long.

“William?”

Even through the strong wind, he clearly heard her and halted. As soon as he’d turned around to see what was going on, her eyes had already caught his. They were very sincere, almost so intense that it intimidated him but also very blissful at the same time. Without leaving her gaze, he could see that she was thoughtfully biting into her bottom lip. He loved when she did that. What hit him next would only send him into new dimensions of surprise and emotion.

“I love you too.”


	15. Epilogue

She pushed the door shut after walking in and immediately took off her heels. Wearing them was exhausting, but for the few hours she had at the office, she would do it without complaining. It looked good and as a journalist for ELLE magazine, she couldn’t just show up in her favourite, slightly shabby ankle boots. Luckily, the comfort of her own home had other laws. Fuzzy socks, his shirts and messy hair was the primary uniform. 

Mid-step, she gently rubbed one bare foot against the other, trying to soothe the soreness caused by her black suede stilettos. Before making a short pitstop in her room in order to put away her coat, scarf and bag, she followed the delicious smell of chocolate to the kitchen and popped her head around the doorframe to look at her favourite view. 

“Hey, you,” a smile was already plastered across her face as she spoke up, making her presence known. 

Standing by the stove, one hand used to scroll through his phone as the other mindlessly stirring the warm liquid with a wooden spoon, was the one person she’d never get tired of hurrying home to. Upon hearing her voice, William’s head immediately shot in her direction and sent her a welcoming smile. “Hey. I’m making some hot cocoa. Want some?” 

“Yes, please. That too.” While he’d acknowledged her presence and welcomed her home, Noora had almost absent-mindedly dropped her coat and scarf to the floor before heading over the door-frame to the stove in order to welcome herself home - properly. Intuitively, William had repositioned himself in order to allow her arms to wrap around his torso. 

“That  _ too _ ?” He frowned jokingly, looking down at the blonde who clung onto him for dear life. “You could at least have warned me about how high-maintenance you are,  _ before _ tricking me into moving in with you.”

“Shut up,” she mumbled before sliding her right hand onto his stubbly cheek to accompany a soft, sweet hello-kiss. Quickly following this, she pulled back just a few inches and looked right into his eyes. “I didn’t  _ trick _ you.” Then placed another kiss to his lips - this time just a small peck. 

“Oh, so does that mean that you agree with the fact that you’re extremely high-maintenance?” 

William knew it was coming, when he’d decided to mess with her like the foolishly in love guy he was, but still flinched when he felt a small, playful punch in his stomach. Looking back at her, she was of course rolling her eyes and turned around to pick up her abandoned coat. God, he was smitten, he thought to himself as he caught himself smiling even though she’d already left the room to put down away her outwear along with today’s work. Though she’d explicitly stated that she was shamelessly married to her job and William wasn’t the one to steal credit from Noora, he couldn’t help but praise himself for the fact that she hadn’t seemed all too married ever since he’d moved in 2 months ago. After discussing their situation - a lot - they’d both decided that it would be easiest for William to come home to Oslo and move in with Noora. First of all, her apartment was quite roomy and second of all, there was no way in hell Sophia would allow William to set a foot - let alone Noora - in their old apartment. To his dad’s dismay, William had of course also quit his job at the family-firm and immediately started applying for new ones in Oslo. Noora was beyond proud, when she came home one evening and he told her that he got hired by one of Oslo’s leading firms. All she could do was smile, kiss him and admiringly state how proud she was to see that he now magnificently enforced the laws and authority - instead of being the legally betrayed boy, full if distrust towards the system, that he used to be. 

Yet to both of their luck, they never got to use his legal skills to protect Noora against Sophia. The designer had never contacted neither Noora, William or even ELLE ever again. Though Noora had also made sure to write a quite praising and, maybe even too, glorifying article about the woman and her work. But to Noora there was no questioning it. There was no room to even consider whether or not Sophia actually deserved the words she published. All she knew was that if it meant avoiding trouble and losing her job, she’d write a flawless article to match the flawless designer - even if it was a matter of opinion, as William himself had commented after reading it. Luckily as well, no one ever got to hear who Sophia’s fiancé actually was, so William had no trouble with showing up at Noora’s work and introduce himself as ‘Noora’s boyfriend’. Not to say that there wasn’t any jealousy, when they noticed all the little things he’d do for her; randomly show up with coffee from the café around the corner, take her out for lunch when their schedules fit and picking her up in his gorgeous car were just few of many things. It was easy to say that everyone envied Noora Saetre. 

“William! The cocoa!” 

As soon as her voice drew him out of his own mind, he suddenly noticed the sound and smell of boiling chocolate going over the edge of the pot. His brows raised in horror, as he watched Noora almost run to save it before he could react properly himself. “Shit,” he mumbled, wetting a cloth to carefully soak up the mess as Noora removed the pot. 

“At least we know it’s warm now,” he heard her mumble under her breath as she grabbed a trivet from a drawer and put the pot down. Once everything was back in control, she turned around and leaned her back against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms and admiring him as he finished cleaning up the stove. “Hard day at work?” she wondered.

It caught his attention, causing him to turn his head away from the now brown cloth and towards her instead. “No, not really,” he mumbled and looked back at the now cleaned stove. Brushing off further details, he turned his attention towards the sink and started washing the cloth. But Noora knew him better than that and that she’d need to poke. Just a bit. 

“Sure? You know it’s okay if it was, right? You’ve only been there for two weeks. It’s normal if it’s still hard and overwhelming.” 

Upon hearing this, he dropped the cloth to the bottom of the sink, dried his hands and turned around to face her - he leaned back onto the part of the kitchen counter that was across from her. Both now stood face to face, each leaning on their own part of the wooden surface. A sigh followed the dropping of his shoulders and his hand tiredly rubbing his eye. 

“It’s just— I hadn’t thought about the fact that Norwegian law would be so different from British. I obviously knew, but it’s hitting me very hard right now and I need to get used to a whole new set of laws. It’s exhausting.” 

Noora scrunched her mouth to the side, like she often did when someone had bad news and she was figuring out what to say. She knew he wouldn’t want her to, but she did somewhat feel like it was her fault. If it wasn’t for her, then he wouldn’t have moved to Oslo and he wouldn’t have to start all over again. Law-school and his job in England was hard enough already. “I’m sorry.” 

A small smile crept onto his face, brightening it up just a bit, before he took a step across the floor between them. “Don’t be.” He slid his fingers into her hair, combing it back on both sides of her beautiful face. “This was a mutual decision and I’ll be okay. All new beginnings are hard, but it’ll only get better with time. Just like us.” 

A small, shy smile finally crept back onto her face, making William’s heart feel much lighter. Making her feel guilty about one of his own issues wasn’t something he’d ever wish to put upon her. Especially when he knew that she was more than innocent. A comfortable silence engulfed the kitchen, leaving only the sound of pouring rain hitting the kitchen window to be heard. After slowly leaning in and placing a soft kiss to her forehead, then the tip of her nose, a giggle of her’s finally erupted into the room. Mission accomplished, he thought to himself as he allowed himself to move on further down and peck her lips. “We’re like wine. We grow better with time.”

“I don’t drink,” she laughed, thinking of the first time she ever stayed at his apartment in Oslo and had stated this as a response to him offering her a glass of wine. The party had been ushered out the apartment, but William Magnusson wasn’t going to give up without trying - yet instead they’d ended up drinking cocoa. Her way or no way. 

“That’s a lie,” he had to laugh as well, as he removed his hands from his hair and pointed accusingly at her instead. “You had no problem downing 10 glasses of wine and champagne, when we went out in London.”

Dramatically rolling her eyes to give herself time to think, Noora worked out a defence in her head and gave it a shot. “Like I was about to sit there and watch you down wine all by yourself. That would’ve just been too sad. I did it for you, you know?” 

“Is this the part, where I tell you to shut up? Cause that is one big pile of bullshit,” he dropped the pointing finger in order to grab her hands instead, pulling her in and up against his chest before suddenly dropping the playful grin and turning serious. “Plus… I’d never want you to go against your own principles for a guy.” A small smile made a come back “Especially not me…” 

Another silence captured them as they shared small smiles, Noora’s eyes shining with pure joy right into his. Her right hand gently let go of his and reached up to attentively push his bangs out of his eyes. “Especially not you…” She mumbled, stealing his words for no specific reason - partly just because she could but also because she didn’t believe them. The rain kept knocking on the window, washing all other worries away in order to prepare the two lovers for new beginnings. 

Though neither found the need to speak right in that moment, both knew that their absence in each other’s lives had only made their hearts grow fonder of the other - if that was even possible.

The moment the words  _ stay with me _ had spilled off her lips, coming directly from the bottom of her heart, Noora knew. London, Sophia, the waitress right behind them… None of it really mattered. Accepting the Sophia-task, coming to London, running into William, giving in to him all over again… 8 years later. It wasn’t a mistake. Maybe it wasn’t altogether ideal, but it wasn’t a mistake. Being the academic and reasonable woman she was, Noora had never fallen for the idea of ‘faith’. It just seemed too far out there, when the world was so immense and people so small - especially after she’d fled London and the one person who’d given her a reason to even consider faith as an option. But now? She could definitely see what people meant. Maybe they were faith all along, she just didn’t want to believe until now. 

“Not that I mind dazing into your eyes, but I think the cocoa is getting cold,” William had leaned in and quietly mumbled into her ear, tickling her and causing a slight shiver of pleasure. Having completely forgotten about the boiling beverage - and not really minding one bit - Noora gave into her longing for something else and put her arms around his neck. Her shoulders rose in a careless shrug.

“Oh…” she mumbled, for once not really caring one bit about the cocoa.

“Yeah, what are we doing about that?” His mumbled words were just barely audible as he pressed his lips to her temple, looking over the top of her head and out the soaked window. He almost couldn’t believe he was here, but he was glad he was. He felt her head move beneath him, causing him to react and look down at where she was already looking up at him. 

“We could just… not drink it. And heat it up…” She looked at his collar, quietly toying with the second button of his shirt, as she innocently tilted her head to the side. The first was already popped. “…Later?” 

A wide cheesy grin grew on his face, letting his hands slide from the small of her back to the front  of her pants and hook his index fingers into each their belt loop. If it was even possible, he pulled her in closer and leaned in to kiss her lips. The smile never went away, even as his lips were firmly pressed to hers. After this they went directly from her lips to the crook right beneath her jaw. An old love-bruise had just barely started to fade from the surface of her pale skin. 

“Noora Amalie Saetre… There’s no way I’m ever going to let you run again.”

Her eyes half closed, already too caught up in his touch she just barely got out a whisper.

“Good thing I don’t have a single reason to do so then…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the bottom of our hearts, thank you for letting us share this with you, for all your kind words of support and encouragement, and for loving Noorhelm with us. 
> 
> I know these notes sound dramatic, but you truly have no idea how enjoyable all of this has been for us, and without readers,we’d have little reason to write.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read! We would love to know what your thoughts are, and we hope you're just as excited for new chapters as we are to share them. Look forward to new posts on Fridays and watch our Tumblr accounts for updates along the way.


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